


Threads

by debwalsh



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Ant-Man (Movies), Black Panther (2018), Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Conspiracy, First Kiss, Fix-It, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, Missing Scene, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Post-Canon, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Unofficial Sequel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2018-03-27
Packaged: 2018-06-07 12:02:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 62,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6803089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/debwalsh/pseuds/debwalsh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is working through the aftermath of Captain America Civil War. Lots of questions, lots of emotions to untangle.  Here be spoilers. This is my attempt to deal with some of the questions that leapt out at me after seeing the film three times in two days. Whether these issues were intended or not, everything is not what it seems as the dust settles from the cataclysmic fights among the world's mightiest heroes. The past is still poisoning the present, endangering the future.</p>
<p>27Mar18 - Chapter 25, Repatriation, is posted!<br/>Updating irregularly, but definitely updating!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first chapter, I guess. I'm still working through what happens next, but this is a good starting point. I've got questions. I don't have answers. But I'm getting there.
> 
> 5Jun16:This story is based on my interpretations of the MCU to date, and the television series on both broadcast television and Netflix. You don't have to agree with my interpretation - I respect that, and encourage you to have your own views, and feel free to share them, debate, present your evidence, etc. If you don't like how I've interpreted the events, cool. You can move on, and ignore me. I'm writing this story based on how I perceive events have happened, and extrapolating where I think they could go. Your mileage and interpretation may vary. I have my own, and i'm sticking to it.

“Buck, y’with me?”

“Yeah, yeah, it doesn’t hurt. Too much. Let’s keep movin’. We don’t need a rematch the way we are,” Bucky urged.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed, exhaling softly. He budged up under Bucky’s flesh armpit, repositioned his arm around Buck’s torso to give his old friend better support, and led the way further into the facility, and hopefully the exit.

As they limped along, Steve felt the last hour or so replay against the movie screen of his mind. So much had happened, so much had changed. So much had been lost, perhaps irrevocably. But amidst all that, something was bothering him, some piece that didn’t fit. Hell, the whole thing didn’t fit. How had they all come to this point? Zemo spoke of empires falling … well, this one was ground into the dust, and he didn’t see a way to recover, not now, not ever.

He thought he’d been doing the right thing, he thought he’d been fighting for the right cause.

He still believed that the safest hands were his own. But a stack of paper and the signatures of 117 strangers said otherwise.

Then why was it he was the only one who saw that?

He’d’ve loved to have discussed it with Peggy, gotten her point of view, her advice. Her sympathetic ear. But time had finally claimed her, and left him behind. He turned and looked at the pale, blood-spattered face of the man who leaned heavily on him, frowning against the pain he refused to acknowledge.

At least I’m not alone. I can’t be alone here in this insane future. I’ll go mad for certain. I just don’t understand …

The Avengers were gone. Peggy was gone. Any hope of a life of peace and prosperity … gone. But Bucky. Bucky was here, and he remembered him. And even though Tony hated him, hated Bucky, Steve felt oddly content.

But still … something was off. Something didn’t fit … the serum. The super soldier serum. 

Howard broke Erskine’s formula.

But how?

And why did no one know? How was this kept secret all these years?

Because surely if someone knew, Bruce Banner would never have been involved in trying to replicate the serum, would never have experimented on himself, and the Hulk would never have been born.

Seriously, why did no one know? If Howard had recreated the serum, something the US military had been bent on for decades, there should have been notes, formulae, something in his extensive archives. There should have been a hunt for the missing serum, records within SHIELD. Peggy would have known.

Tony would have known.

Fury would have known.

The world would have known when Nat dumped SHIELD and Hydra’s secrets onto the net. 

Wouldn’t they?

Unless Howard had been working outside the system. 

Unless … no. There were just too many questions.

“We need that tape.”

“Steve, the chamber collapsed –“

“Something doesn’t fit, Buck. _We need that tape_.”

With a huff, Bucky nodded, and let Steve guide him back down to the chamber where he’d spent so much of the last century. 

&&&

Even unbalanced by the absence of his prosthetic arm, Bucky insisted on helping to shift the debris. He moved with deliberate grace and strength, and Steve was once more impressed and humbled by the quiet resolve that radiated from his old friend, even now.

They were making a path to the silo where Zemo had played the recording, where he’d orchestrated the final moments of the Avengers, and a friendship that had been forged in fire shattered into shards of pain and distrust.

The chamber was quiet except for the settling of dust, the ominous creak of rebar and concrete straining to collapse. They needed to work quickly, but Steve had a burning need to know.

“What do you remember? Of the Stark assassination.”

Buck frowned but kept working in synch with Steve. “Now? Everything. At the time, I had no idea who they were, they were just targets I was sent to eliminate. Not even them personally, just anyone who saw me take that case.”

Steve considered that for a moment, lost in the rhythm of identify, pick up, set aside, stabilize, repeat. Finally he spoke again. “Yet Howard knew you. Wasn’t even all that surprised it _was_ you. You were supposed to’ve been dead for 46 years by then, Buck. He didn’t think you _looked_ like Sergeant Barnes, he knew you _were_ Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky paused, hand outstretched to pick up the next piece of rubble piled in their path. He turned to look at Steve, his frown deepening. “What’re you getting at, Steve? You think Howard Stark – _your_ Stark’s Dad – was working with Hydra? He was one of the founders of SHIELD, for fuck’s sake. Our friend.”

Steve straightened, too. He dusted his hands off and turned toward Bucky. “Yeah, but … how’d he get a sample of the serum? Peggy told me Howard gave her his only remaining sample of my blood in 1946, and she dumped it in the Hudson. The government had a small sample of my blood, but Howard didn’t have access to it.”

Bucky just nodded thoughtfully, then went back to clearing debris. Steve looked at Bucky in silence for a long moment before he reached to grab his end of the next big chunk. “Buck, do you remember anything about blood samples?”

Bucky helped Steve heft the block and set it aside, then paused again, straightening as he nodded slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, they’d take samples after every mission, testing to see if my immune system had been compromised in any way.”

“And was it?’

“No, not that I’m aware of. But I do remember being taken out of cryo once where all they did was take samples. Filled tube after tube, then put me back in, didn’t even prep me that time. No need for a wipe when there’d been no mission. That was in the ‘80s, I think.”

“That the only time?” Steve went to work on the next impediment, a twisted pile of metal piping and frame with shards of safety glass still trapped in place like broken teeth.

Bucky shrugged, had to grab hold of a nearby block of concrete as he faltered, still acclimating to his new center of gravity. He warned Steve off with a look, then bent to help Steve with the metal and glass monstrosity. “Well, there was one time when they bled me to see how much they could take before my system shut down irreparably. That wasn’t fun, let me tell you. I nearly died, but Hydra wasn’t really going to let its Asset expire.”

“So there was a supply. Of blood, I mean.”

“You think Stark used my blood to make the serum that made those other super soldiers.”

“If they were taking samples from you, what were they doin’ with ‘em? And if he couldn’t get access to the last remaining sample of my blood, how in hell could Howard recreate the serum?”

“You think he knew. That he was working with Hydra. That they had me.”

Steve nodded slowly. “I hate to think it. He was a friend. To both of us. But what other explanation is there?”

“The 1980s … the rift between the Soviet Union and the United States was under repair. I was held in Soviet Siberia. Maybe it wasn’t Hydra Howard worked with. Maybe it was the Soviets. And Hydra got in the middle of it.”

“Even now, you find it difficult to think that your friend could have betrayed you,” came the accented voice of T’Challa, the Black Panther. 

Bucky stiffened, turning toward the voice, while Steve calmly put the debris he’d been clearing out of the path. “Your Highness,” he greeted as he turned as well.

“After everything you have been through, you are still trying to find the good in people, Sergeant Barnes.”

Bucky just looked at him tensely, lips pursed.

“I have secured Colonel Zemo in my craft. He will face justice. He will face a jury in open court, and he will be punished for what he has done. There is no way he can cleanse his soul, and there is no way he do penance. It was his choice. It was his choice to murder, to take innocent lives to exact his revenge. You, Sergeant Barnes, you had no choice. Your soul is not so tainted.”

“But my body … my body was there, I was there. I remember. I’m responsible.”

“I hope that one day you can recognize that is not true. But in the meantime, let me help. You seek evidence?”

“The recording. Of Tony’s parents’ deaths. There are questions,” Steve explained quietly.

“You suspect there was more to the event than simply stealing something for your captors. And this involves Mr. Stark’s father.”

Bucky nodded slowly, and Steve clapped his hand on his remaining shoulder. “It doesn’t add up. There are more questions than answers.”

“I will help. We have little time. Mr. Stark will collect himself and may come this way soon.”

“Your Highness – “

“I appointed myself your judge, jury, and executioner, without benefit of real evidence, without authority. For vengeance. As we have seen, I condemned the wrong man. And vengeance is a poison that kills the holder. I owe you an apology. I owe you a debt. Allow me to repay it. I will help. And when we have found your evidence, I will escort you out of this godforsaken place. I offer you asylum, James Buchanan Barnes, in Wakanda. And you, too, Captain Rogers.”

&&&


	2. Regroup

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which actions are taken in the wake of the dissolution of the Avengers.
> 
> How did Zemo get into custody?
> 
> And just how did Steve Rogers find his way onto the Raft?
> 
> I got questions ... trying to find answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, wow, I am incredibly gratified with the response this story has gotten so far. This chapter is really a lot of stumbling around trying to figure out what logically happened next. In coming chapters, I will return to what I consider to be the core question - what the heck was Howard up to?

“We need to blow this place to kingdom come,” Bucky said matter-of-factly, glancing around him as they stood in the control room of the old missile silo. 

Steve was by the VCR, peering at the controls to figure out how to release the tape. Finally with a gruff shake of his head, Bucky walked over, flicked on the power, and hit the eject button. “What, I was stuck in the ice when these things were new,” Steve shrugged with a half-smile.

“Wish I was,” Bucky muttered, handing Steve the tape. “You have any of these back in Wakanda?” he asked T’Challa, who tilted his head to regard the aged audio-visual equipment. 

“Bring it, and the cables. We’ll transfer it to digital as soon as possible.”

Steve slid the tape back in its case, and picked up the file folder Zemo had left on the console with it. “There’s a lot of information stored here, Buck. Some of it could be useful.”

“Some of it could be used to recreate this house of horrors. Trust me, nothing that was done here was done for the benefit of mankind. It should all burn.” With that, he pushed past, yanked the cables free from the console, unplugged the VCR, and maneuvered it under his remaining arm. He was gone before Steve had a chance to frame a reply.

“In my culture, we do not have anything like your western Hell. But I imagine that for your fiend, this place was Hell,” T’Challa said gently.

“Yeah. I guess he’s right. I don’t think we have enough explosives on board the Quinjet to take out the whole facility, though.”

“No. When we arrive in Wakanda, I will dispatch a unit to ensure this place is removed from the Earth.”

“Nuke?”

“Something cleaner, and much more effective. There must be no trace of this place, nothing to indicate it ever existed.”

“You have that kind of technology?”

T’Challa smiled, a smile of pride and secrets. “You will see. Now come, let us get going. We want to be airborne before Mr. Stark finds us still here. I do not wish to harm him.”

Smiling quizzically, Steve followed the king of Wakanda out into the silo, and into the austere landscape beyond.

&&&

At T’Challa’s insistence, they all boarded his jet, leaving the Quinjet Steve and Bucky had used for Tony’s escape. He could certainly return to civilization using the snowcrawler Zemo had used, but it was only fair that they allow him some level of comfort and autonomy since Steve had destroyed Tony’s suit. Or rather, Steve had completed the destruction Bucky had started.

And that was the thing – neither of them had tried to kill Tony. They’d gone after the suit, the weapon. Those repulsors could vaporize a man. And Tony had been angry enough to use them. They’d had to take out the arc reactor to have a hope of surviving the encounter.

Steve hoped that someday Tony would understand that that had been his goal, not harming Tony himself.

He hoped that someday he could believe that Tony would not have killed him, but he couldn’t be sure. He certainly had planned to kill Bucky. And if he’d succeeded … Tony would not have walked away.

Everyone had the wrong idea about Steve Rogers, Captain America. Everyone saw the upstanding icon, the beacon of American patriotism. They forgot he was a soldier. A soldier who’d done the hard jobs, the dirty jobs, to secure the freedom and safety of the people, not only of America, but the world. Steve knew how to kill, and he wasn’t afraid to kill. He had the capability and the will, but he would never kill indiscriminately, or for personal gain.

But if Tony had killed Bucky, Steve Rogers would have killed Tony Stark. He never wanted to kill Tony, and he was grateful he hadn’t been faced with that decision. But he knew with certainty that he would not have been able to hold himself back if Tony had killed Bucky. And then Steve would have killed himself, a clean end to it all.

So what they had was so much messier. The Sokovia Accords were law across the planet, in 117 countries. Wakanda had been primary architect of the Accords, and now they were on the jet of the Wakandan king, headed to Wakanda. Yet somehow, Steve trusted that T’Challa would not turn them over to the US for trial. He didn’t believe they were headed for Wakandan cells or house arrest, either.

His question must have been writ on his face somehow, because the king chose that moment to address the elephant in the room.

“Wakanda is a signatory to the Accords, but as King, I can choose whether or not to prosecute. I choose not to. When I offered you sanctuary, I meant it. For you, and your team.”

“Where are the rest of my team?”

“I heard Ms. Romanoff say something about the Raft. She was not pleased.”

“The Raft?” Bucky repeated, confused.

Steve shook his head bitterly. “Maximum security prison in a submarine. Even if you can escape your cell, you’re under water in the middle of the ocean. The only way to break out is to have someone waiting for you with a way off the sub.”

“Then I imagine I will need to introduce you to Wakanda’s Minister of the Navy.”

“I thought Wakanda was a landlocked state.”

“Wakanda is home to many natural wonders, including great bodies of water that stretch above and below ground. Some extend all the way to the ocean, and so, Wakanda has a Navy. And in that Navy, there are submarines.”

“Oh.”

“Mmmm.”

&&&

Natasha Romanoff proved to be an invaluable ally when it came to turning Helmut Zemo over to the authorities. She graciously accepted the king’s invitation to visit him in the Wakandan capital, greeted Steve with a sweet smile and a peck on the cheek, and nodded gravely at Barnes. Then she took custody of Zemo in order to turn him in. She infiltrated the CIA facility in Berlin with Zemo in tow, and left him secured in the cell originally allocated to the Winter Soldier, with a note for Everett K. Ross that said, “The real perpetrator behind the bombing of the UN meeting on the Sokovia Accords. Listen to the recording. Barnes is innocent.”

The recording was from T’Challa, recounting an edited version of the events in Siberia, in which Zemo’s plot was described in detail. It had been an epic exercise in careful editing, leaving out mention by name of Stark, Rogers, and Barnes, but the fact that the report had been provided by the king himself lent it gravitas. Zemo was unwilling to deny it – he was proud of what he’d done to destroy the Avengers. And so he was remanded into custody where he would likely remain for the rest of his life.

T’Challa was perhaps the only one who understood that living was the greatest punishment Helmut Zemo could face.

But Zemo’s discovery of the mission that had resulted in Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths led T’Challa to establish a unit within his intelligence service dedicated to mining and decrypting the data Black Widow uploaded to the internet – the SHIELD and Hydra files both. He was as curious as Steve Rogers was regarding Tony Stark’s father’s involvement in the Hydra super soldier program. This incident revealed that there could be other threats out there, other experiments by Hydra, or even SHIELD, that could be sleeping, waiting for the opportunity to rise and damage – or even destroy – the world.

The Minister of the Wakandan Navy turned out to be quite a fan of the legendary Captain America, and was quite happy to lend a sub, a crew, and some very specialized tech to the esteemed Captain Rogers. No one seemed to question that Sergeant Barnes would join him in his mission. No one but Sergeant Barnes himself.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would love to hear your theories and speculation. Think I need to go back and rewatch the entire MCU from the start ...


	3. Reunion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wherein I attempt to answer more of my own questions ...
> 
> What's Bucky's take on Steve's plans?
> 
> For that matter, what is T'Challa's perspective on everything that's happened. He's offered sanctuary to what the world considers a dangerous group of people, after all.
> 
> And how are the incarcerated Avengers (and Scott) released from the Raft?
> 
> And I must apologize, I have never read the Black Panther comics, so I'm making this up as I go along. There is no resemblance between what I am writing, and what's in the comics. Any similarities are really just blind luck. :) Although I may borrow a few names here and there ... :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was at the dealership today to get my car inspected and have annual maintenance done. I meant to work (as in my paid job), but I got a new phone a month or so back, and I forgot to load the security key app on it, so i couldn't get on the company network to work remotely. So I wrote instead.
> 
> My dumbass move means you get a new chapter a day earlier than expected.
> 
> I still don't know where this is going. But I'm having fun with it, and i'm really glad that you seem to as well.

“You don’t want me on this mission, Steve.”

“But I do – I don’t know that I can take down every crewman on that sub by myself. Romanoff’s in Germany dropping off Zemo –“

“So wait ‘til she gets back. She’s the spy. I’m a blunt instrument. An untrustworthy one at that.”

“Don’t say that. I trust you.”

“You’re a dumb punk. You trusted Mike McGillicuddy, too, and that didn’t turn out so well for you. Seem to remember havin’ to unhook your scrawny ass from Mrs. Polanski’s laundry line. You practically had your head stuck in her unmentionables.”

“You remember that?”

“Some. Enough to get a good laugh out of it.”

“I’d thankfully forgotten it. Thanks a lot, Buck.”

“Yeah, well, memories like that are a gift. Beats hell out of some of the other memories I’ve got.”

“Yeah. I heard Tony ask if you remembered … well. You do, remember all of it, I mean?”

“The victims? The faces of the people I killed? Yes. Names, places, missions, faces, screams, begging … I can’t shut it out. It’s all there all the time. They’re there.”

“That wasn’t you.”

“You keep saying that. How do you know? How do you know, Steve, that I wasn’t the one in the drivers’ seat? You never complained when it was me pulling the trigger with the Commandos. That was 100% James Buchanan Barnes.”

“That was different. It was war. We had a mission. You were doing your duty.”

“Hydra was at war. The Winter Soldier had a mission. _I_ had a mission. A mission to comply.”

“Did you choose to kill Tony’s parents? Did _you_ , Bucky Barnes, personally choose to crash that car, pull Howard Start out of the driver’s seat, and beat him to death?”

“I … no.”

“And Maria Stark?”

“Collateral damage. I had my orders – no one who saw me could survive.”

“Again, was that Bucky Barnes’s choice? Or the Asset following programming?”

Bucky was silent for a long time, staring at Steve with something like wonder dawning across his face. “Programming. And that’s why I can’t go on this mission, Steve. All anyone has to do is repeat those ten words in Russian –“

“Those ten words in _Russian_ ,” Steve barked. “Someone would have to know those ten words. In the right sequence. And know how to pronounce them in _Russian_. T’Challa recovered the book from Zemo’s stuff before we gave him to Nat to drop off. It’s secure.”

“I can’t take the risk. Karpov’s not the only one who knew them. I don’t know who’s still alive. Steve, those words trigger _total compliance_. They could order me to kill you, to rip your apart and eat the pieces, and I would do it. Without hesitation.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

“Yeah, Steve, I would. Those trigger words don’t rely on damaged brain tissue to give them power. It’s not like you can shake a memory loose by reminding me of Red Hook. They’re buried in my head. _Hardwired_. They’re permanent. They’re a timebomb, Steve. _I’m_ a timebomb.”

“You were triggered in Berlin. And then you weren’t. The conditioning wears off.”

“It takes time. Even without the arm, I can do a lot of damage in the meantime. I don’t ever wanna wake up and find out that the damage was you. We don’t know who’s on this Raft of yours. Maybe it’s all friendlies, and there’s no risk. But maybe there’s some of the old Hydra guard. If this is their max security prison for the baddest of the bad, it’s likely. I can’t take that chance, Steve.”

Steve nodded slowly. “Okay. You’ve made your point. I’ll do this solo. I would’ve liked you on my six, but I can do it on my own. I can’t let them rot there for backing our play.”

“You can leave Wilson. He’ll be okay. He’ll like it there.”

“Buck.”

“No, seriously, he told me – he’s always wanted to live underwater. You know, we had a major heart to heart while you were playing tonsil hockey with Peggy’s niece. Which, on the whole yay to nay scale, Steve, nay. Trust me on this. _Big nay_.”

Steve shook his head and chuckled softly. “She’s cute. She’s nice. She’s got some of Peggy’s fire. I wish … I wish she wasn’t Peggy’s niece. ‘Cos yeah, it was a nice kiss, but it didn’t feel right. Felt like … like cheating.”

Bucky reached out and clapped his hand on the back of Steve’s neck, drawing him closer so they touched foreheads. “It’s okay to miss her, Steve. I get it. You just got her back. Now she’s gone. You loved her. You need time to mourn.”

“I lost her, yeah.” Steve’s hand cupped the back of Bucky’s head, holding him close. “But I found you. You’re back. We’re gonna be okay, Buck. I promise you.”

Bucky’s eyes closed tightly, and Steve thought he felt a mist of moisture on Bucky’s lashes that nearly touched his own cheeks.

“Yeah, sure, Steve. We got all the time in the world, huh?”

Steve squeezed the back of Bucky’s neck and nodded. “Yeah. But I’m not leaving Sam in the Raft.”

“Just a suggestion. It’s a good one. You should reconsider.”

“You’re not letting that go.”

“I’m really not.”

“He’s a good friend.”

“I found you first.”

“It’s not a competition, Buck. I can have more than one friend.”

“You can only have one _best_ friend. Tell ‘im the job’s taken.”

“Yeah, okay. But I’m not leaving him there.”

“You’re gonna regret that.”

“Pretty sure I won’t.”

“Get your fuckin’ ass out of here, punk. Don’t get it shot up.”

Steve grinned at Bucky then, and asked cheekily, “Why? You like my ass?”

It was meant to be a joke, and Steve was unprepared for the sudden blush that spread across Bucky’s features and down his neck.

“Um, just stay safe, right?” Bucky said awkwardly, clapping Steve on the shoulder with his remaining arm. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll see you then.”

&&&

T’Challa watched the recording again, tapping keys and fiddling with the mouse to zoom in on the words printed on the glowing blue serum bags. He agreed with Captain Rogers – there was something very odd about this, considering that the serum was thought to have been lost with Captain Rogers. He’d heard the story of Dr. Bruce Banner, and his attempts to recreate the serum from scratch. Others had tried over the years, with varying degrees of disaster. But apparently, Howard Stark had succeeded where everyone else had failed, yet no one in the world knew about this, except for Hydra, the organization he was supposedly committed to destroying.

He peered closely at the digitized image, increasing the magnification and the density of the image as he went, finally relying on his own heightened visual sense to identify all the information printed on the bags. He tapped a few more keys, and a hi-res print of the bags in close-up silently extruded from his printer. He picked it up, studied it for a moment, then turned it over to write a note.

“Dear Mr. Stark: How did Hydra know your father had recreated the super soldier serum? And why has no one else ever known of this discovery? I believe peace can be found in answering these questions. Your father’s archives may hold the key to the past, as well as the future.

Yours sincerely,

T’Challa  
King of Wakanda

And perhaps a friend.”

He slid the annotated photo into the FedEx box containing Captain Rogers’s letter to Stark, and the cellphone into which they had programmed the number of the phone held in his custody. He’d offered, because the one thing he’d quickly come to understand about Steve Rogers was that he was selfless to the point of foolhardiness. If the phone were held by the king of Wakanda, the UN would have no jurisdiction should Stark choose to turn it in to the Accords panel. And if Stark used it in the spirit in which it was offered, T’Challa would ensure that Captain Rogers’s safety was assured.

He saw how Captain Rogers was complemented by his old friend, Sergeant Barnes. Rogers would race in, heedless of danger; Barnes would follow, always covering his back. They were yin and yang to each other. 

The other thing he’d quickly come to understand about Steve Rogers was that he’d been in a walking state of sleep since coming out of the ice. Reunited with his childhood friend, a new man emerged. 

But darkness still clung to James Buchanan Barnes. A darkness imposed on him, certainly. He grasped now just a small part the enormity of what this man had endured. He thought he could see something of what Captain Rogers saw – a man of incredible strength, a survivor of the first order.

He could only hope that Sergeant Barnes could see the light in himself, and not be swayed by the dark to give up on himself.

He sealed the box and handed it to his aide. The timing of the delivery would be precise, and would fall after Captain Rogers and his team were safely back in Wakandan territory.

&&&

Minister W’Kabi had a hard time containing the grin that kept threatening to break out on his face as he stood next to Steve on the bridge of the _Uduto_ , Wakandan for “stealth.” 

“You see, up ahead – part of Wakanda’s great wealth, Captain.”

The submarine, a small boat manned by a skeleton crew, travelled silently through the shallows of the great lake outside the Wakandan capital, canting gradually deeper as they moved away from shore. Steve really wasn’t sure how this was going to get him to the Raft, but he had to trust that T’Challa was as honorable as he seemed.

Suddenly, the boat dropped to a more acute angle, picking up speed as it did. The crystal blue of the lake gave way to the murky depths of the stirred-silt lake bottom. And then suddenly there was light again, blue, glowing, everywhere – to the sides, below, and above.

“Subterranean rivers. This is but a tributary. When we join the main riverway, that will take us directly to the coast and beyond.”

“How did you find these?”

“There are caves throughout Wakanda that intersect with the underground system. Some have chosen to live below the surface, to husband the resources of the secret shallows. It provides Wakanda with a defensible border and access to the outside world should we choose to avail ourselves. Our new king was educated outside, you know,” he added proudly.

“I gather you folks keep in touch, even if the rest of the world doesn’t know much about you.”

“We are a curious race, but cautious. Our natural resources could make us prey to many who would exploit and destroy our nation. So we have kept to ourselves. But the world is changing, and Wakanda must become one with the world. We have much to offer.”

“Yes, sir. And the world needs you,” Steve agreed, watching avidly as the brilliantly lit water slid by, populated by all manner of fantastical sea life. It was like he’d fallen into one of the H. Rider Haggard books he’d loved as a boy – any second, he expected to see a rainbow waterfall, and the ancient siren, She, or the diamonds of Alan Quartermaine’s quests.

&&&

“No, everybody’s fine. They’ll have a headache when they wake, but no one’s gonna need a medic, I promise,” Steve explained as the team convened in the control room of the Raft, surrounded by unconscious crew members littered around the space.

“Seriously, you used a blow dart to take everybody out? How could you do that without me, man? That’s like the coolest of the cool,” Sam grumbled, glancing around. He, Steve, Scott Lang, and Clint Barton were all dragging the crew into their seats and positioning them so their heads were pillowed on their crossed arms on the consoles. More comfortable than sprawled on the floor, provided they didn’t tip over.

Wanda sat silently in a chair, staring into space. Steve had removed the inhibitor, but she’d yet to come back to herself. He was growing concerned.

“So what, you used darts dipped in the poison of the tse tse fly?” Scott asked excitedly as he arranged one of the crew with a critical eye.

“No, a Wakandan sedative – all natural, not habit forming, it’ll wear off in about two hours.” Steve snorted softly. “I sound like one of those commercials, sorry. It’ll last long enough for us to get off this thing and back within Wakandan waters.”

“Wakanda? How’m I gonna get home from there?” Clint asked as he walked into the secure storage and grabbed his gear. He stripped out of the orange prison gear and suited up, completely unfazed by the fact that he was surrounded by his teammates. 

“I don’t know that you’re going to be able to go home, Clint,” Steve said softly.

“Yeah, no, that’s not an option. I can’t leave Laura alone with the kids. I got a farm to run. Plus, I got a cover. I get back home, no one connects Farmer Clint with Hawkeye. I’ve been flying under the radar there for years. Just gotta get me home, and I do the rest.”

“Okay, we’ll talk to the king and see what he can do. What about you, Mr. Lang? You want to risk going home?”

“I think maybe laying low might be a good idea, for a while at least. They get wifi in Wakanda?” Steve nodded affirmative. “Then I’ll be able to Skype with Cassie. My ex and her new husband may not be happy, but I stand by my decision to follow you, Cap. I still believe it was the right thing to do, and that’s what I want my daughter to know. What’s right.”

“Okay. That leaves you, Sam. And Wanda.”

“She’s in a bad way, Steve. Everything that’s happened, she’s convinced it’s her fault. She’s gonna need some help to put it all behind her. I think Wakanda is as good a place as any to settle for a while. So … what about Barnes?”

“Buck? He was concerned there might be inmates here who’d know the trigger words. Or others. He stayed behind so he wouldn’t compromise the mission.”

“Hmmph.”

“Sam, I’d really like you to give him a chance. You haven’t seen him at his best.”

“I haven’t seen him at anything but the worst. The man’s a menace. He practically tore off my face. At least this time he didn’t break my wings,” he added, grabbing his gear from the storage unit. He handed Scott his Ant-Man helmet, and Scott checked over the suit to make sure it was intact. Sam grabbed Wanda’s clothes and laid them gently in the pile he’d built of his own things. “He’s like Grumpy Cat. Only ever smiles at you. If I didn’t know better, Steve, I’d swear the two of you –“

“Let’s get going, shall we? Got everything? I’ll take Wanda, you guys start moving toward the sea pool.”

&&&

Two hours later, the crew came to, found their most powerful charges were missing, and sounded the alarm. About the same time, a package was delivered to one “Tony Stank.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The response has been wonderful, thank you! I love seeing your comments on the story, but I already really get into your speculation about what's happening, what's gonna happen, etc. Please, feel free to continue to speculate, guess, and throw ideas and conspiracies out for discussion!


	4. Realization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions, questions. I got questions.
> 
> What happened to Bucky's backpack?
> 
> How are they going to reach Wanda when she's gone so deep into her head?
> 
> What happens when Tony starts thinking rationally?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I guess this is a thing. I really can't help myself, I keep coming back to this and it's kinda not leaving me alone. I got ideas. Some of them may pan out, some may end up on the cutting room floor. But for how, the dust is settling and there's time to reflect on the shit show that is the actions and decisions chronicled in the film.

“She’s too young for everything that’s happened to her,” Sam said softly. “She has no mechanisms for processing it all.”

“She’s lost too much. Too many hits, not enough time to process one before the next one slams into her. I know how that feels,” Steve replied, a worry divot forming between his brows. “Life keeps knocking her down. She’s convinced herself it’s better to not even get up again.”

“You speak from experience.” It wasn’t a question, but an observation.

“Dad died when I was a baby. Just Ma and me. I was sick from day one – bad eyes, bad ears, bad heart, bad lungs, bad spine – the list goes on. I was considered a defective. I was easy to overlook, and people thought I’d be easy to flatten. I wasn’t expected to live. I didn’t stay down. I never stayed down. But damn, were there days where staying down and letting myself die? They were tempting.”

“And that’s where Barnes comes in,” Sam breathed.

“And that’s where Bucky comes in, yeah. He wouldn’t let me give up. He’d sit on the edge of my bed, even after Ma banned him from the apartment, and he’d read me my homework. Or the latest comic book he swiped from the news agent. Or the latest installment of _Boy’s Own_. He’d make up stories about adventures we were going to have together, places we were going to see.” Steve turned and his eyes unfocused, drawn back to that distant time. “We didn’t have much, but we had each other. Never quite figured out what I had to offer him, but I don’t think I woulda survived to see puberty if it hadn’t been for Buck.”

“You really don’t know?” Sam asked, eyebrows quirking in genuine surprise.

“Some things you don’t question too much, not when you’re the neighborhood squirt with a big mouth and an even bigger chip on your shoulder,” Steve answered with a wry grin.

“Huh. So you always felt lucky to have him as a friend, huh?”

“Yeah. He was the most popular boy at school, good at sports, smart – he was valedictorian for his high school class, a year ahead of me. Talented – he played piano, and he was a helluva writer. Coulda been a published author if the War hadn’t gotten in his way. He always wanted to get published in _Astounding Stories_ – he loved science fiction. We used to talk about getting jobs with Timely, where he’d write the comic book and I’d draw it. Woulda been a good life,” he added wistfully, nodding fondly.

“Instead there was a war and Hydra.”

“Yeah.”

“Y’know, Wanda and Barnes … they might have something in common. They might be able to help each other in ways the rest of us can’t.”

“Okay,” Steve said in that tone of voice that implied, “go on.”

“Both of them were changed by Hydra. Now, I know Wanda supposedly volunteered for it. But she was a kid, she couldn’t have truly comprehended what Von Struyker had planned for her and her brother. Both of them have lost something significant – Wanda her parents, her brother, her country. Barnes, everyone he ever knew other than you. And both of ‘em are compromised. Wanda because people are scared shitless of her, and she’s afraid of her own damn self now, and Barnes because of the conditioning. I’m thinking maybe we put them together and see what happens. At least for a little while, see if they take to each other, feel comfortable.”

“Sounds like you’re matchmaking, Sam. I thought that was Natasha’s job.”

“Not matchmaking. Think of it as the buddy system. They each need somebody who gets it. As for romance, you really think Barnes is on the market?”

“He loved women. He was respectful, don’t get me wrong, but a girl gave Bucky Barnes the eye, he wasn’t gonna turn away. Now, I dunno. I don’t think he’s had time to think about that.”

“Yeah, that’s not what I meant, Steve – “

“Captain, we are approaching the first cataract,” Minister W’Maki called from the deck. “It is a beautiful sight that you might enjoy, sir.”

Steve grinned at Sam as his buddy grumbled, “Somebody’s a fan, _‘Captain’_. Better go keep your fan club happy.”

“Jealous?”

“Of you? Every damned day, son, every damned day,” he replied with a wide grin.

&&&

Bucky was amazed at the scope of Wakanda’s hospitality. He’d been living in the shadows for so long, just getting by and staying under the radar, he didn’t quite know how to process the space allotted to him, or the panorama that extended beyond the massive floor to ceiling, wall to wall windows.

He’d done an extensive sweep of the suite King T’Challa had assigned to him, adjoining Steve’s. He’d found no surveillance devices, but he already suspected that Wakanda’s technology might be superior to what he knew from Hydra and his varied forays into the 20th and 21st centuries. The “glass” of the windows was actually vibranium infused, created at such a high temperature, the components of the glass and the vibranium fused to become a new material. It was impenetrable – no one could get in, and no one – namely he – could get out.

The suite itself was luxuriously appointed, far more than he could ever expect for himself. The Handler, Pierce, now he would have been comfortable here. For Bucky, it was an oddity, a curiosity, but not a comfort.

There were only two things in the world that gave Bucky Barnes comfort: his backpack, and Steve Rogers.

For now, the backpack was the more important item, treasured and protected against all odds. When he’d been separated from it in Berlin, it had taken all his resolve and self-control to not panic and start an incident. When Zemo had triggered the deep-rooted Hydra programming and he’d come to in that vise, he’d despaired of ever seeing his backpack – and the notebooks it contained – ever again.

But somehow, Sharon Carter, Peggy’s grandniece and … _something_ … to Steve, had recognized it for what it was – an essential part of Bucky, as much his as the shield had been Steve’s, and the wings had been Wilson’s.

Only Steve had dropped the shield. He’d let it fall from his hands as though it had meant nothing when Stark had told him he didn’t deserve to wield the shield that Howard had created. Steve chose Bucky over the shield.

And Bucky didn’t quite know what to make of that.

Fact was, there was a lot about Steve that Bucky didn’t know what to make of. There was a lot about Bucky regarding Steve that he didn’t know what to make of, either. 

Why would Steve choose Bucky over being Captain America?

The answer could be in his backpack, in the notebooks that he meticulously updated whenever memories came flitting back like gossamer in his mind. He’d recovered the backpack from the Quinjet they’d flown to Siberia, and hand-carried it to T’Challa’s waiting craft, holding it on his lap the entire way to Wakanda. And upon arrival, he had held it close until he’d been left alone here, in this palatial suite, with no visible form of surveillance, with no keeper, no handler, no jailer. Only after Steve had left to recover his team from the Raft prison had Bucky finally opened the backpack and checked the contents. 

He was always ready to move fast, so only the most current notebook came out of the pack. The others, he lovingly touched, counting through them to make sure they were all there, the escalating numbers a mantra that calmed and centered him. Then he placed the backpack in a location where he could recover it quickly if he suddenly had to run.

Because it always ended in a fight.

Didn’t it?

Did it have to, if Steve was with him? Could Steve, or even the King, protect him from yet another fight?

And if he had to choose between Steve and his backpack, really choose, which _would_ he choose? The man or the memories?

He really didn’t know. He hoped he never had to find out. 

&&&

Tony Stark studied the photograph autographed by the King of Wakanda. His erstwhile ally. But he’d long since realized the T’Challa had never been on his team – it had just been expedient, their paths coinciding for a while. After the dust settled in Berlin, he’d disappeared, and Tony had no idea what had happened to him.

Until now.

The fact that he’d placed this photograph with his note in the box meant that Steve had to be in in the same place as T’Challa. Barnes was unlikely to go anywhere without Steve – the idiot wouldn’t let that murderer out of his sight. So the two of them were together, with T’Challa. And while the parcel didn’t indicate where it came from – that in itself was suspicious – it was a sucker’s bet to assume anywhere other than Wakanda. Apparently Wakanda had given Cap asylum, Barnes likely, too.

Ergo, T’Challa. King of Wakanda, was not Tony Stark’s friend.

And if he wasn’t a friend, he was a what? Enemy? Frenemy? Facebook stalker?

Tony feared that he was losing the ability to tell anymore.

He’d thought that he and Cap had something fundamental and good. Actual affection. Respect. An understanding.

All that went out the window as soon as Barnes was in the mix. Cap was like a lioness protecting her cubs when it came to Barnes.

And Barnes. Well. Barnes was anything but helpless. The Winter Soldier. Over two dozen confirmed kills.  
Two very close to home kills.

Six hundred and eleven million dollars in science therapy, void.

He killed his Mom.

He didn’t have the right to continue breathing.

And Cap knew. Cap knew that Hydra had been behind his parents’ deaths. He never said. Never gave Tony the opportunity to deal with that. Because he was a coward.

Captain America was a fucking coward.

Worse, Captain America had dropped his shield, and abandoned him. Howard had been distant, disengaged, obsessed with the star-spangled man with a plan to the point of mania. But when Cap came into Tony’s life, it was almost like he had a second chance at a relationship with Howard, seen through Steve’s eyes. There’d been times where he’d almost felt comfortable with his memories.

And then Barnes admitted he remembered every one of his kills.

His Dad.

His Mom.

His whole fucking life, lost in a haze of booze and drugs and sex and denial.

All because of fucking James Buchanan goddamned “Bucky” Barnes.

And Cap had abandoned him to take his side.

That’s what it felt like. Cap had abandoned him, left him behind to go off into the sunset with his murdering BFF, without regard for the damage he left in his wake, the pain, the loss …

He disabled the suit. Smashed the reactor so the suit powered down and couldn’t be reactivated. The whole thing was a pile of rubble in his workshop.

Barnes’s arm, what was left of it, was tossed on top of the pile, right on top of the battered shield.

He’d been surprised to find the Quinjet waiting for him outside the Hydra facility. He’d expected to be well and truly abandoned, left to die in the Siberian cold.

But Cap had made sure he’d had a way home.

An olive branch?

Or just good manners?

And now, the king of Wakanda sent a photo graph, and an instruction to research the project number in Howard’s archives.

Why should he? Why should he dignify it?

But there was something there. Howard cracked the super soldier serum? 

Then why was Bruce Banner tasked with recreating it, condemning himself to be the Hulk as a consequence?

Why weren’t there battalions of super soldiers marching in lockstep formation to protect the world from itself?

Why was there no fucking record?

It was anomalous.

Sometimes the greatest discoveries happen in the moments in between, in the anomalous stretches between one certainty and the next.

Howard had broken the super soldier serum.

There was no record.

And yet Hydra knew. Hydra knew he had it, in the car, on that road on that night.

How?

Someone else was complicit in his parents’ death.

Someone else had pointed the weapon.

Who?

And were they still alive enough for Tony to kill them again and again for leaving him an orphan and costing him everything?

He was going to find out.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sound off below! Thank you so much to everyone who's kudoed, commented, and read this thing. It's going to be an interesting journey, at least. I hope you continue to enjoy this and as much I am enjoying writing it.
> 
> And if you haven't seen Captain America Civil War yet, there are plenty of spoilers to be had online so you can get the gist of what happened in the film. I'm not going to retell the film here. Better yet, go see it. Cast your vote for more movies with this cast of characters with your dollars, dinero, pesos, drachmas, and bullion. :)


	5. Rebound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I struggle to find answers to more questions.
> 
> What happens now that Zemo is in custody - is there amnesty for Steve or Bucky now that the terrorism task force has the real culprit in custody?
> 
> What happened to Sharon? Is she still on TeamCap? And what does her mother think of her making the moves on Aunt Peggy's best guy?
> 
> What happens when you put together an ex-brainwashed assassin with a young woman with powers and an inquiring mind?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still kinda winging this, and completely blown away by the sheer number of comments. And such thoughtful ones as well!
> 
> I've gotten out of the habit of answering comments, because I felt funny answering comments when I owed updates on various stories, especially I, Barnes. Now that I've got most of my stories/series moving forward, I feel more comfortable about doing it. And I'd love to keep the conversation rolling.
> 
> I love films, TV series, and books that make me asked, "What if?"
> 
> Captain America Civil War has certainly delivered on that for me. :)

Natasha Romanoff sipped calmly at her coffee, eyes roving smoothly to read the terrain, senses reaching out to take the temperature, get a sense of pressures and tensions around her.

The world was still reeling from the cellphone footage of the airport battle in Leipzig. Ross had been very, very public about the arrests, and the UN Secretary had made a statement about being sad to mark the end of the planet’s protectors due to an unwillingness to cooperate with authorities on the part of one Captain America and his uninformed followers.

She wondered if any of them would backpedal now that Zemo was in custody, now that the scope of his single-minded plan was known. 

A single man had taken out the UN assembly, had brought the international intelligence community to its knees, had fooled the world into turning against its greatest hero, and had orchestrated the dissolution of the one family Nat had ever really known.

She believed that nothing would be said, no mention of Zemo’s incarceration would ever make it into the public record. He would quietly be absorbed into the system, fed, watered, but forgotten as soon as possible.

He was an embarrassment.

He was a cautionary tale.

He was an example they would not want to be followed.

A single man had decoded encrypted Hydra files, identified the lynchpin that could bring the Avengers to an imploding ruin, had played the intelligence community against itself, and succeeded where the entire machine of Hydra had failed.

She would give it a day. If no announcement, no press release came out of the task force, the UN, or Ross’s office, Natasha would ensure that everything would be revealed to the world.

Cap was right.

Barnes had been framed.

The Accords … they were the reality. But they got it wrong, all wrong. But with everything that had happened, she wondered if there was still any chance to get it right, or if they’d permanently blown it all to hell.

If the UN panel would provide support to the Avengers, she could see it working. She could see Cap accepting. If they’d had support in Lagos, if they’d had support in Sokovia, maybe they could have minimized casualties more. A cooperative relationship with UN oversight could have yielded positive results. They were always lacking ground support, liaison with local authorities, and there were only so many friendly cops they could co-opt to assist. 

She doubted Nick would be showing up with a fleet of helicarriers again. The next disaster may just end up a disaster, with no one there to help.

They did their best, were willing to sacrifice it all to save what they could. She and Steve had stood on the edge of the city looking out into the growing abyss, and each had been willing to die trying. She knew that Thor and Tony had risked everything trying to get the flying city under control without causing irreparable damage to the environment.

The Avengers never treated casualties lightly. Every one of them had felt the weight of responsibility, every one of them had fought to save as many as they could, every one of them had been willing to make the ultimate sacrifice if necessary.

Too bad the world didn’t know what the alternative had been.

Then again, if Tony had never created Ultron, there wouldn’t have been a problem. And if Wanda hadn’t fiddled with his mind, focusing him on the idea of saving the world, no matter what.

Who knew Tony Stark had a God complex?

But if that sequence of events hadn’t occurred, how different the world would be today.

Sokovia might still be intact.

Pietro Maximoff might still be alive.

Bruce might still be in New York, playing at Science Brothers with Tony while Natasha pined in silence.

Clint might be home with Laura and the kids, and the Avengers wouldn’t even know about his private life, his private haven.

But they did.

And they weren’t.

Natasha took another sip of her coffee, and smiled bitterly to herself.

It had all gone to shit.

“You look like you just bit into a particularly nasty lemon.”

She turned slowly and bestowed a sad smile on Sharon Carter. At least she wasn’t in custody.

“Glad to see you’re not in chains.”

“It was a near thing. The surprise delivery helped, I gotta tell you. So thank you for that.” She nodded toward the waitress and ordered a drink and a snack of her own, then settled into her seat to wait. “He’s not talking, but the recording you provided from King T’Challa was very instructive.”

“He’s a good man.”

“My boss still doesn’t like him – he doesn’t trust anyone who wears a mask. Think that’s going to be a recurring theme. How are they? How is … how is Steve?”

“Secretary Ross took Clint, Sam, Wanda, and Scott into custody.”

“The Raft. I heard. I’m not going to be able to help in a jail break –“

“Not asking you to. I know Steve appreciates your help. He’s … safe.”

“Asylum in Wakanda?”

“What makes you think that?”

“The fact that the king of Wakanda narrated the story of Zemo’s plan and subsequent capture? The fact that you’re the one who delivered him?”

Nat allowed herself a small congratulatory smile and nodded. “Well, I’ve always had a soft spot for Cap.”

“Who hasn’t?”

“You really like him.”

The waitress delivered Sharon’s coffee and a scone on a decorative plate. Sharon thanked her and turned back to Natasha, a sad smile on her face. “He’s very attractive. He’s kind, he’s honest, he’s the kind of guy you take home to your Mom. But if I took him home to my Mom, she’d have an aneurism. She practically ripped me a new one through the phone when I told her! He kissed me, you know. If was a good kiss. I’d’ve liked more, you know? But Mom? What were you thinking? He was Aunt Peggy’s beau, the love of her life! No daughter of mine … and more in that vein. Basically she felt that I was letting Aunt Peggy down, poaching her guy.” Sharon shook her head and took a sip of her coffee.

Nat took a fortifying swallow of her own coffee, and didn’t let a grin break across her face. “I tried to set you two up, you know. Before SHIELD fell. Actually, again after. I guess I’m glad he didn’t take me up on it. He told me he was shocked to see you at her funeral. It hit him hard. She was …”

“The love of his life. Yeah. I figured that out. I get it. He’s not for me.” She half-smiled, half-grimaced as she took another sip of her coffee.

“Bad timing. Maybe if it had happened when she was still … when she was still alive, she could have given her blessing. Your Mom wouldn’t be able to challenge that.”

“Yeah. Me and Steve Rogers are just a series of missed opportunities, wrong time, wrong place, wrong job. But I owe it to Aunt Peggy to make sure he’s okay. I’ll do what I can to support him, but the mood right now … Germany is looking to reparations for the damage done to the Leipzig Airport, you know. There’s talk of seizing Stark International’s holdings in Germany.”

“Stark’s? Why?”

“That leaked footage shows it was mostly ‘Team Iron Man’ who did the damage. Vision, that little spider guy, War Machine, Stark himself. Then again, that giant dude is in a heap of trouble –“

“Scott. Ross’s already got him.”

“Well, being on ‘Team Cap’, the airlines whose planes got ripped apart probably look to Steve to pony up some cash or something.”

“Or something?”

“He’s Captain America. They might let it slide if he does the publicity thing. But that would mean breaking asylum.”

“Not in his best interests. I don’t know the details of his finances. Stark funded a lot.”

“Yeah, well, Stark may have been acting under the authority of the Accords, but they didn’t sanction crippling a major European airport.”

“Yeah, pretty sure they didn’t sanction Stark almost killing Rogers, either. I know Secretary Ross wanted Barnes dead, but Zemo framed him for the UN bombing.”

“There’s the matter of seventy years of assassinations.”

“Listen to yourself.”

“Pardon?”

“Seventy years of assassinations. How is that possible? What did he have to endure to survive for seventy years?”

“There’s a deeper story there. The conditioning,” Sharon guessed.

“Cryo. Torture. Zemo found that book because he decrypted the Hydra files. No one’s working on that. Someone should be. There could be more out there. There could be more about Barnes.”

“His kills, you mean.”

“How he got to be the Winter Soldier. I went up against him a number of years ago in Odessa. And again in DC two years ago. The man that’s with Cap right now? He’s not the Winter Soldier. He’s not the maniac that got triggered at the task force headquarters, who beat us both in the cafeteria. He’s Bucky Barnes, Cap’s old buddy. A decorated war hero. Or at least some of him is.”

“Okay. It’s a thread worth following. I’ll see if I can turn Everett on to mining the data. You’re right – no one has prioritized triaging that data once it was out there.” She paused, and allowed herself a bite of the scone that had been cooling on her plate. “Considering Hydra’s efforts to create enhanced humans, I think I can sell him on the idea. We need to know who else Hydra may have altered, what kinds of abilities might be out there.”

“To register?”

“With Hydra, register and maybe neutralize. We can’t count on them being friendly.”

Natasha nodded slowly. It was true, if there were enhanced out there made that way by Hydra, they were probably still loyal. Unless, like Barnes, it had been against their will. She took another sip of her coffee, then settled the cup in the saucer, turning it slightly to align the handle to twelve o’clock.

Sharon raised an eyebrow, brought her cup to her lips. “Leaving so soon?”

“Hmm? Maybe. There’s work to be done. I think you’ve got Germany covered. I think I need to be elsewhere.”

“Somewhere like Wakanda?”

“Maybe. Right now I’m a free agent. I don’t know if Secretary Ross is coming after me or not. T’Challa ratted me out for letting Steve and Barnes go,” she shrugged. “That was before he found out that Zemo had been behind it all. But if might be worthwhile for me to lay low for a little while, where I don’t have to look over my shoulder. Y’know?”

“I know. Okay. You have my number. Keep in touch. Let me know if you need anything. And I’ll let you know how it goes with Ross. This could be huge.”

Natasha nodded, tossed a few euro on the table, and slipped back into the crowd. 

Wakanda here we come.

&&&

”Take care of her,” Steve had said.

“She needs a friend, someone who understands,” Steve had said.

“She’s just a kid,” Steve had said.

What Steve hadn’t said was that the kid needing a friend to take care of her _snored_.

Like, it was a good thing he wasn’t planning to take a nap right now, because there was no way he was falling asleep with that racket going.

He’d gotten some of her story out of Steve, and a lot more out of the Internet. Wanda Maximoff was a twin who’d lost her other half. She’d volunteered for Hydra experimentation because Stark ordinance had nearly leveled her city, and had killed both her parents. 

She volunteered.

He couldn’t understand that. He had no frame of reference for someone volunteering to be a Hydra lab rat.

He couldn’t fathom why someone would willingly put themselves into their hands.

Then again, there was no one outside of Hydra who actually knew what Hydra had done to him. He didn’t know if there was anyone left now that Karpov was dead.

_Karpov was dead_. It should make him feel freer, but knowing that book still existed, knowing that someone could be out there who knew the words, the sequence, the pronunciation … He looked back at the girl, wondering if he just nudged her chin with the heel of his hand, if the snoring would stop.

The Winter Soldier still lurked under the surface. He could pretend all he liked to be a real boy, buy fruit in the marketplace, smile at Steve and share charming anecdotes of Brooklyn and Coney Island and feelings that belonged to someone else. But that didn’t change the fact that the monster still lived inside him, waiting for ten words to draw him forth.

He needed to minimize the damage, contain the collateral and protect Steve. Protect Steve at all costs.

He recognized original programming. He just wished he could trust that it would override the Hydra deep programming. But he knew it couldn’t.

“You think very loud,” her voice interrupted his cycle of despair. “For a world famous assassin, your mind is very chaotic.”

He tilted his head and regarded her. Her eyes were sunken, as though she’d been starved for weeks. The faint red line around her neck showed where the inhibitor collar had cut into her skin. He supposed for someone whose power was all in the mind, the inhibitor might have made it seem like she was starving. She was considering him as much as he was considering her, and her red lips were drawn down in a frown.

“Still thinking too loud. You have to stop – you’ll give me a headache.”

“Hmmph. Wouldn’t wanna do that. You mean something to Steve.”

She looked at him a long time, and then smiled faintly, nodding to herself. “That’s funny.”

“Oh? Wasn’t aware I’d told a joke.”

“No joke. You say I mean something to Steve – I know I do. He is very kind. Like an older brother – not like my twin, but an _older_ brother. But you? You mean _everything_ to Steve. And you don’t believe that.”

“I’m no good for him. Look what happened.”

“It would’ve happened anyway. He would have gotten hurt trying to protect me. At least he has you back now. He has everything he needs now you’re back in his life.”

Bucky tilted his head back and looked at her gravely. Scarily, he could hear Wilson complain in his mind. He really needed to do something about BirdBrain.

But the sincerity on Wanda’s face was unnerving. She believed what she said.

Steve needed him. Steve was happier having him here.

Yeah, Wanda really needed to have her head examined. Now before she got sicker …

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How long will this story remain canon compliant? I'm not sure. I'm going where it leads me.
> 
> As for Howard Stark, I'm excited to see speculation and suggestions in the comments. I have some glimmerings of where that's going to go, but I don't know for certain yet. Time to allow the researchers within this story do their job. There are layers upon layers hidden away. In Howard's archives. In the Hydra files. Even in SHIELD's own files. And maybe even within Tony's memories, if he can just recognize that's what they are.
> 
> More to come. I'd love to hear what you think. Thanks!


	6. Research

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony finally reaches his limits, T'Challa and Steve reach a tentative accord, and Bucky and Wanda begin to learn the ways in which they are similar, and the ways in which they are not.
> 
> Questions I asked myself ...
> 
> How is Stark Industries handling all that's happening? Along with the Accords, Tony's got to face shareholders and a CEO who may or may not still be in his corner.
> 
> How does the succession in Wakanda work? And what is Steve's role there now that he's an unexpected long-term guest?
> 
> How can Bucky and Wanda help each other?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still bubbling along. I honestly don't know how long this is going to end up. I appreciate all the comments, kudos, and bookmarks - far beyond anything I expected when I started this. I'm still worrying at questions, and pondering what ifs and might have beens. 
> 
> As for the serum, apparently the version used in The Incredible Hulk was made by Dr. Reinstein - an alias for Professor Erskine. Not really sure how much I believe that - I thought all the serum was used up when Steve transformed, and the formula died with Professor Erskine. Oh bummer, an excuse to go back and watch The First Avenger again! How will I ever endure? With popcorn and a beer, thank you very much.
> 
> And as far as Howard creating a super soldier serum, I think of it as replicating the best of Erskine's formula - that he wouldn't consider turning it over to the Pentagon if it weren't perfect. So it would be far better than anyone else's knockoff.

The project to digitize Howard Stark’s archives was an ongoing one. Dad was nothing if not prolific and peripatetic in his pursuits. So not everything that Howard Stark had ever envisioned, developed, or hypothesized was available in the really large database that Tony had been searching for the past several hours.

Without success.

Ugh. He loved code, but he hated data. Reams and reams and reams of boring, unweighted, contextless data. He really needed to write some code to sniff the data for him. A Stark search engine. Starkgine? Pottsearch. No.

He had no choice. He was going to have to visit the archives and root around. Get his hands dirty, figuratively and literally. Although, truth be told, the archives were kept in a dust-free, climate controlled environment. So the only dirt he was likely to pick up would be attached to the actual artifacts as Howard had handled them.

He unfolded himself from where he’d been parked on the floor, searching data on the virtual monitor formed over his head. He was making his way down the hall to the bathroom, because, duh, he’d been searching data for longer than he’d realized, and biology was winning, when he froze, heart pounding.

The sound of high heels clicked fiercely across the floor.

A breath of perfume wafted on the air.

Was he imagining things? It could happen when he didn’t sleep, and he honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d actually slept, not since everything went to shit in Berlin, and got even worse in Leipzig, and he thought he’d been doing the right thing at the Raft, and then Siberia, and then … and then.

Yeah. He had nothing.

“Tony?”

“Pep?”

“Tony, we need to talk. I’ve just met with the board, and we’ve got a situation.”

“A situation.”

“You broke an airport, Tony. They’re demanding that you pay for it.”

“I was acting under the Accords.”

“Ross has cut you loose. Big surprise. What were you thinking, working with him? You know he’s got no moral compass, absolutely no consideration – look what he did to Bruce!”

“I kinda had no choice. It was sign, or be forced to sign. We did drop a city in Sokovia. And Wanda kind of blew up a building with people in it in Lagos. Accidentally, but there you are. Why are we doing this if we can’t contain ourselves?”

“And now you’ve lost Steve. It doesn’t surprise me that he wouldn’t sign. What am I going to do with you, Tony?”

“Barnes killed Mom and Dad. For Hydra. And Dad broke the super soldier serum. I almost killed Steve and Barnes, but Steve killed the suit instead.”

“I … what?” 

“You weren’t there.”

“No, I wasn’t. Why did you almost kill Steve, Tony?”

“He was in my way. To kill Barnes.”

“Kill.”

“Yeah. I might have been a tad bit upset. Learning that Barnes killed Mom and Dad.”

“Did he know they were Howard and Maria? I mean, was it deliberate?”

“You mean did he mean to kill them, yes. Did he know who they were? I don’t know. I … I can’t really be sure. He was … I, uh …”

“How do you know this, Tony?”

“I saw it. Old videotape. He caused the crash, beat my father to death, strangled my mother, and took a case containing the super soldier serum.”

“I didn’t know that Howard cracked it.”

“I didn’t either. No one did. Except someone did, because Hydra sent the Winter Soldier.”

“Oh, Tony. I’m so sorry. I know you’ve been trying to come to terms with your loss. This can’t have been easy.”

“Oh, it’s easy to try to kill someone when you’re out of control. I almost succeeded. Cap could have killed me – he could have decapitated me with the shield. He broke the arc reactor. Took out the suit.

“Where is Steve now?”

“Wakanda, I think. He’s in hiding. With Barnes, I guess. He’s a wanted man. Captain America is a criminal because he didn’t sign the Accords, because he acted according to his conscience.”

Pepper shook her head. “Okay. Well. The board is talking a vote of no confidence, essentially kicking you out of your own company. It’s ridiculous, of course – all the patents are in your name personally, you are the greatest asset to the company, and if you’re voted out, you could basically just take everything and go somewhere else. So that makes no sense. I don’t like the idea of using foundation funds for cleanup –“

“I’ll pay it. Tell them to send me a bill. I’ll pay it. I did it, I cop to it – I broke an airport. Fuck, I broke a hell of a lot more than an airport this week. It’s done, Pep – the Avengers. Done. Finished. Kaput in a big way. I … Shit,” he swore as the tears burned his eyes.

“Come here,” she said gently, opening her arms to him, and nodding encouragingly. He stepped into her arms, resting his head on her shoulder as his arms wound round her torso. Her arms closed around him, and she pressed her cheek against his hair, brushing a soft kiss against his forehead.

He’d missed this.

He’d craved this.

He didn’t deserve this.

He was, after all, a hand full.

He had reneged on his promise to destroy the suits. Well, he’d destroyed the suits, then he built more. And he kept on building them.

She’d left him – that was the truth of the matter, not a rom-com timeout, but a flat-out we-can’t-make-this-work exit. He’d driven her away because of his addiction. His addiction to being Iron Man.

After Ultron, he’d thought he could put that aside. He’d said goodbye to Cap at the Avengers Compound, full of best intentions to focus on his relationship with Pepper, be a good whatever they were to each other – they never really defined it, after all. Maybe husband, if he played his cards right. He wanted that, a lifetime together. A promise and a commitment.

Yet he hadn’t been able to keep his promises to Pepper.

And so she’d finally left. Quietly, elegantly, calmly. 

He’d held it together, outwardly at least. Inside, he was a milllion million shards of subatomic particles.

He’d been going through the motions for far too long.

Wrapped in her arms, Tony Stark wept.

&&&

The Wakandan royal compound was a multilevel collection of buildings overlooking and weaving in and out of a lush and varied landscape. From one window, Steve could look out over the mist-shrouded treetops, from another, he was at the foot of a mountain, or the edge of a lagoon, or like now, the floor of the jungle, wide swaths of green punctuated by the gnarled roots of trees that were young when giants walked the earth. It was beautiful, awe-inspiring, and like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

Buck and Wanda seemed to like it, too, and were wandering the paths leading deeper into the jungle, weaving in and out of each other’s path as they went. Steve stood at the window, feeling like he was watching a dance as old as time, and he felt a constriction around his heart that he chose not to examine.

Wanda’s long lashes hid her eyes as she stepped along the path, her hands occupied with an orchid-like flower, toying with the stem, plucking at the petals, lifting it to her nose on occasion to breathe in its scent. Every so often, she’d lift her face and look directly at Bucky and smile, wide, sweet, and open. She giggled and laughed, simpered and smiled. The tension, the fear, the soul-crushing guilt seemed to lift right off her shoulders, leaving the sweet young girl he knew Wanda to be. He’d learned not to fear her, learned to care for her, learned to be proud and protective of her. 

He hadn’t expected to feel jealous of her.

Because as light as she seemed to be, as easily as she laughed and smiled and enjoyed herself, it was nothing compared to the glow that suddenly suffused Bucky.

He felt like someone had pulled the curtain back on time, and he was sixteen again, watching James Buchanan Barnes of Brooklyn escort the prettiest girl in school to the dance. All smiles and easy touches and smooth moves. He ducked under a low hanging branch and swung himself around to walk backward ahead of Wanda, a grin lighting his mouth and crinkling his eyes with genuine pleasure. His stance was relaxed, easy, and he seemed to have stood down from alert, shoulders loose and arms looser. He looked like he would kick up his heels and start dancing any second.

Steve always loved to watch Bucky dance. Music just flowed through him, took control of his limbs, and made him soar.

In another life, Bucky might’ve been another Astaire, or that other guy, Kelly.

He’d always had a natural elegance about him, a fluid movement that was hypnotic to watch.

And now, with that powerful body, those defined muscles, and that deadly grace, he looked at home in the jungle, like a big cat about to spring at its prey.

Was Wanda his prey?

Did he need to worry?

And who would he be worrying about?

He really wasn’t sure where these thoughts were coming from. Buck was his friend. He’d never … no, he’d never. He shook his head, attempting to clear the odd and random thoughts. He needed a distraction, something to help him reach a point of stillness. So much had happened so fast, his head was full of noise.

“Captain,” T’Challa greeted softly, jarring Steve out of his reverie. The king moved as silently as the predator whose mantle he wore, and this wasn’t the first time he’d surprised Steve in the past few days.

“Think you should get in the habit of calling me Steve, your highness,” he replied with a faint smile.

“Then you should call me T’Challa.”

“Is that allowed? I mean, I’m a foreigner in your land. I wouldn’t want to offend anyone.”

“I have granted you permission. If anyone has a problem with that, their problem is with me, not you. I see Miss Maximoff and Sergeant Barnes are enjoying the garden. They make an attractive couple.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they do.”

“You do not approve?”

“Not my place to approve or disapprove. They’re both adults.” 

Steve grimaced. That sounded fake and hollow to his own ears. He glanced over and saw T’Challa regarding him with that bemused expression, a half smile on his face that looked like it could spread into a grin if unchecked. He found he genuinely liked the king, would like to be friends with him. He could regret the circumstances that brought them together, but he hoped it wouldn’t stand in the way of a potential friendship.

“I’ve been meaning to ask – is there a coronation now that you’re king, some kind of ceremony?”

T’Challa’s demeanor grew melancholy instantly. He drew in a deep breath through his nose, held it, and released it slowly. “I became king the moment my father died. Had he lived and chosen to pass the crown to me, there would have been a ceremony to mark the transition. But his death took that away.” He shook his head sadly. “I am sorry you did not have an opportunity to meet him. He was quite a fan of the man who wielded the shield made of stolen vibranium.”

“Stolen? I didn’t realize. Tony Stark’s Dad made the shield, said it used all the vibranium on the planet. Never said anything about stealing.”

“Perhaps stolen is too strong a word. Legend has it that my great grandfather did not mean for the vibranium to be included in the transaction with Mr. Howard Stark. But when the vibranium was found missing, he elected not to pursue it. He was concerned it might draw more attention to Wakanda than he wanted.”

“How on earth did your great grandfather meet Howard Stark?”

“That is a story for another day, my friend. And I will share it. But right now, I wish to ask a boon of you. As I said, my father was a fan. The mourning period is about to end, and we will lay his spirit to rest with the ancestors. He will run free upon the veldt. I was hoping you might speak.”

“I, uh, I didn’t know him, I wouldn’t know what to say –“

“I have many people who can speak about the great king T’Chaka. I would like you to speak about the world outside, the lands beyond Wakanda. My father wanted Wakanda to rejoin the world. There are still tensions, still fears. A few words from you about the world beyond our borders may help ease them.”

“Even if I can’t cross those borders without ending up in jail or worse? I’d be honored. I’m sorry I didn’t get the chance to meet your father. As for the Accords …. I still don’t trust that a group of people with conflicting agendas can make the right call when there’s an emergency. I’ve seen organizations rot from within, make decisions based on greed, on politics, on everything but genuine need. They weren’t even willing to hear about the Hydra super soldiers – what if Zemo had reactivated them? How would the Accords panel have dealt with that?”

“It is not a perfect system, I will grant you. Perhaps this is something we can discuss during your time here – ways to make the Accords more beneficial, more practical. The world is afraid, Steve. Just as my country is. We must find a way to soothe their fears and serve the greater good at the same time. I told your Miss Romanoff that two people in a room can accomplish so much more than a hundred people in a chamber. Let us see what we can accomplish together.”

Steve smiled, the first genuine smile he’d felt in what seemed like years. It was only a few days since he and Buck had deplaned in Siberia, sharing a fond memory from their shared past. He’d smiled then. A lifetime ago. He turned toward T’Challa and stuck out his hand. “I would like that, T’Challa. I would like that very much.”

Grinning, the king of Wakanda grasped his hand and shook it firmly. Steve had a sudden sense of hope, warming him from the center out.

&&&

Bucky ducked his head and grinned at Wanda. Shadows still danced on the edges of his awareness, but for the moment, he felt them quiet and still, letting him just be in the moment.

It had been a long time since he’d been around a young woman, and he felt his years, in cryo and out, pressing down on him as he walked through this tamed part of the jungle with her. She talked of growing up in Sokovia, of losing her parents, of life with her brother, the people of Sokovia, of being found by von Struyker, of being recruited for the experiments. 

“He promised us vengeance,” she said with a sniff, dragging the back of her hand under her nose. “He said nothing of horror.”

“They never do,” he agreed, sobering instantly. She reached out and touched her hand to his forearm. He was wearing a t-shirt, exposing his flesh arm, the left sleeve pinned over the metal stump where his prosthetic had been.

“I see now why Steve wanted us to get to know one another. No one else could understand what it was like.”

“You volunteered – they wouldn’t let you go if you asked to leave,” he said flatly.

“We had nowhere to go,” she answered, just as sotto voce. “And there was the matter of vengeance.”

“Yeah.” He bent over to get under the low hanging branch, stepping carefully around the gnarled roots of an ancient tree. He blew his breath out through his nose. “Vengeance seems like a good idea until you watch it escalate. Then the world burns. You get caught in the backdraft.”

“So what will you do? You will not seek vengeance?”

“The best vengeance for me is to live. Be free. And track down everyone still alive and make them bleed.”

“Is that not vengeance?”

“That is justice. It’s also prudent. Anyone who could know the trigger words represents a danger to me. And that makes me a danger to Steve. To you. To everyone.”

“You fear the beast within.”

“Don’t you?”

“My beast? I don’t know. It’s who I am now. What I need is control. It’s a part of me I cannot lose, I do not think. So if it is part of me, I need to master it. I cannot let it control me. Is that not right?”

“You’re smarter than you look,” he answered with a smile. “This power of yours … do you think … ?”

“I do not know if I could use it to help you. But perhaps … perhaps we can try. Together. Hmmm?”

Bucky’s smilewidened, and he nodded. “But first, we work on your control.”

“I think that is a very good idea. But for now, I think lunch is a good idea, no?”

“Yeah. I could eat. Let’s go.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As ever, thanks so much for the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and most especially encouragement! Hope you continue to enjoy, and please do shout out your theories and questions resulting from watching Captain America Civil War!


	7. Recalibration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the team following Steve tries to bond, words are said, and understanding is sought.
> 
> The questions I asked as I wrote this were:
> 
> How do two survivors of Hydra find peace?
> 
> What happened to Bucky's family?
> 
> How does the rest of the team view Wanda, and Bucky?
> 
> What about the Winter Soldier book?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working my way through questions. Blown away by the response this story has gotten. Seriously, thank you.
> 
> I have no idea how long this will be. I really don't have an outline or much of a plan. I jot down issues when I'm working, and then sit at the keyboard and night and worry them. This is surprisingly therapeutic, and I hope you continue to enjoy it as much as I am.
> 
> I will, of course, have to take a break from this soon to get on with updating some of my other WIPs. But for now, enjoy!

“There you are! How can such a big man can hide so well?” Wanda called from the doorway to the observation room at the jungle floor level.

“Steve was the neighborhood hide and seek champion, what, three years running?”

Steve didn’t look up right away, caught up as he was in articles he was reviewing on the internet.

“Hey, Steve!” Bucky called, and leapt across the space to plop down on the couch next to the desk where Steve was working. He picked up a decorative pillow and tossed it at Steve’s face.

“What the fuck! Buck!” Steve swore, suddenly focusing on Bucky grinning at him from the couch. He held the pillow lightly in both hands. That smile, so young, carefree, so unfettered. It was beautiful the way it lit his face, crinkling around his eyes, making the apples of his cheeks pink and stand out. “What?” Steve asked, shaking himself from staring too long.

“Hide and seek champion – three years?”

“Four, until Chickie Rocco locked me in the dumpster behind Shea’s Malt Shop.”

Bucky snorted inelegantly as Wanda gasped. “You? Locked in a dumpster?”

“Well, he was a little smaller. And what – about a third of what you weigh today?”

Steve shrugged, glancing from Bucky to Wanda, taking in the relaxed cast of their shoulders, the easy smiles, the bright eyes. He was happy to see them both like that, really he was. He didn’t understand the aching little hollow inside, though. He should feel exhilarated, joyful. Instead, he felt left out, left behind.

“I’m hungry,” Bucky replied simply.

“Um, okay?”

“We were going to go get lunch. We want you to join us,” Wanda explained, coming toward the two men. She smiled at both of them, but wandered to the other side of Steve so that he had to break eye contact with Bucky. “I am cooking.”

“Oh,” he said, swiveling his head to look at her. She held a gentle smile on her face as she paused at his left side, still toying with that flower stem. He smiled back, and she tilted her head expectantly. “Oh, that’s okay, I’m not hungry –“

“I call bullshit,” Bucky announced, bouncing up off the couch and resettling on the back of the couch, his feet on the cushions. Steve opened his mouth to protest leaving footmarks on the upholstery, but Bucky interrupted him. “One thing that’s consistent in my memories is I’ve never known you to be not hungry, not when you were smaller, not when we were in Europe, and I’m betting, not now.” 

“When’s the last time you ate, Steve?” Wanda asked, a little divot of concern forming between her brows. “I know your metabolism requires a great deal of fuel, yet I so rarely see you eat.”

“Uh, I had something this morning –“

“Coffee and a cookie don’t qualify as breakfast, Steve, even if it is a protein bar,” Wanda complained. “You spend all your energies taking care of us – let us take care of you, hmm?”

“Take care of me?”

“I’m making omelets. I want to make one for you. Hmmm?”

Steve looked at her in silence for a moment, feeling uncomfortable at the combined attention of both Bucky and Wanda. Why would she want to cook for _him_?

“Steve. Please,” she said softly, reaching for his hand as her smile faded to seriousness. “Let me do something for you.”

“Okay,” he heard himself saying, nodding at her.

“Good, that’s settled,” Bucky announced, clapping his one hand on his thigh. “Now we need to collect Barton and Lang. Wilson’s not hungry.”

“You’re not gonna let Sam go hungry just because you don’t like him, Buck,” Steve chided with a chuckle, pivoting in his chair.

“Sure I am. He’d do the same for me. Trust me – he doesn’t like me any more than I like him.”

“Actually, that is not exactly true,” Wanda interrupted. “He likes you even less than you like him,” she said seriously, then dissolved into giggles. “No, seriously, he told me this!”

“Geeze, I’m surrounded by comedians,” Steve muttered, earning him a grin from Bucky and a sweet smile that morphed into crossed eyes and a stuck out tongue from Wanda. ‘And children. Let’s not forget children.” Steve stood then, and bent to place a quick kiss to Wanda’s forehead. “I’m glad you’re feeling better, Wanda. Thank you for cooking for me. Us.”

“Meet me in the kitchen by our rooms in twenty,” she announced, and then moved her fingers intricately, red mist forming around them, and suddenly she was levitating and moving toward the door. “I am working on _control_ ,” she announced as she rotated in mid-air to turn back toward him. 

“Good, that’s good. That’s – yeah. I’ll see you in a few,” Steve said awkwardly as she smiled brightly at him, swiveled forward, and continued out through the door.

“Smooth as always, Rogers,” Bucky observed wryly from his perch on the back of the couch.

“Didn’t your Ma ever tell you keep your feet off the furniture?”  
  


“Yeah. Yours did, too. I never learned to listen,” he answered fondly. “’S’I recall, neither did you.”

“Captain America is house-trained.”

“How ‘bout Steve Rogers? “ Steve shrugged. “Yeah, thought so. Hey, let’s go round up the others,” he added, clapping his hand on his thigh again and sliding down to roll up onto his feet. “She really does want to cook for everyone. She’s grateful to be out of that hellhole. You did good, Steve, getting her out. What the hell were they thinking, locking her in her own mind after all she’s been through?”

“She talk to you?” Steve asked, falling in step with Buck. Now this, this felt natural. Having Bucky stride along on his left. One of the nicest things about the open floor plan of many of the rooms in this part of the complex was that they were wide enough for the two of them to walk through abreast. It was tight, but it just felt right.

“A little. I see why you asked me to look after her. No one else understands Hydra quite the same way. Even though she volunteered, she essentially gave up any consent once they had her. It isn’t right.”

“You talk to her?”

“Heh. That was part of your plan all along, right? Introduce me to a pretty dame, get me talking. Yeah, well, there’s a lot I don’t want to talk about. I don’t want to think about it.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Okay. But maybe … maybe you could think about any intel you might still have. Something we might be able to offer the authorities, a good faith gesture. You were framed, but we still caused some damage in getting away from them. Nah, don’t worry about it, it was just a thought.”

“You know, I could, actually. I mean, it might get them more on our side, wouldn’t it? I’m not sure how current my intel is, though. I’ve been detoxing nearly two years, and trying to stay out of Hydra’s way. But I can certainly identify bases and safe houses – think that might help?”

“How do I know? I’m an internationally wanted fugitive from justice.”

“Yeah, but at least you don’t have a list of kills as long as your arm.”

“No. I have a city we accidentally dropped out of the sky, people we dropped buildings on. A building in Lagos where an exploding Rumlow killed over a hundred people on my watch. I got blood on my hands, Buck. Don’t think I don’t. Hundreds of people. More. More than you did, more than you ever could. And I wasn’t under any influence. I was in command. So let’s not talk about who’s guiltier, huh? Let’s talk about better things.”

Bucky stopped then and simply stared at Steve for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Steve felt a pang then. There’d been a time when he spoke fluent Bucky Barnes. Now, he could vaguely recognize the outlines on occasion, while at others, it might as well have been Sanskrit written on the moon.

Suddenly a smile burst across his face, like sunlight breaking through the clouds. “Like do you know if Wanda can actually cook?”

Steve chuckled at that. “Yeah, actually, she can. She likes to cook. From what she’s said, they wouldn’t let her near the kitchen when she was with Hydra, so she feels like it’s a little bit of freedom she can shove in their faces, y’know?”

“Oh, I know all about shoving freedom in Hydra’s faces. Hey, you might be right, Wanda and I have a lot in common. But I’m pretty sure she doesn’t like baseball. You still follow it?”

They resumed their walk toward the shared area T’Challa had allocated to the team. “I got to pitch the opening ball for the _Los Angeles_ Dodgers last year. Wasn’t the same, but it was still a thrill. You?”

Bucky shrugged. “Not much American baseball coverage in Romania. But I have started to actually enjoy football – European football.”

“What we Americans call ‘soccer’.”

“Yeah, I was kind of confused at first. But it’s good. Crosses national borders, brings people together. Sort of.”

“Look at us. Just a coupla guys talkin’ sports.”

“Yeah. Just a coupla regular joes,” Bucky agreed, wrapping his arm around Steve’s neck and tugging him close. His breath caught suddenly, and choked off in a wet sob.

“Buck?” Steve asked, stopping and turning toward Bucky.

“I, uh, I missed this,” he said, a little breathless. “The Asset didn’t get … hugs. Only reason anyone touched me was to haul me out of cryo, shock my brain, or stick me in tac armor.”

Steve’s hands moved of their own volition, one hand grasping Bucky’s right elbow and sliding up to cup his shoulder, his other hand reaching behind Bucky’s neck to pull him closer so their foreheads were touching. Then Steve let his arms wrap around Bucky’s shoulders, and Buck’s hand grabbed onto the fabric of Steve’s t-shirt, flattened his palm warm against his back. Suddenly they were pressed close, and Bucky was crying, unabashedly leaking tears into Steve’s shirt.

“I’ve missed this, too,” Steve whispered. “Everybody wants their picture taken with Captain America, but other than Nat, no one hugs Steve Rogers.”

“Nat, huh? Something going on there, Rogers?”

Steve shook his head, chuckling. “Nat’s like a sister. In fact, sometimes she reminds me of Gracie, your youngest sister.”

“Ornery and pig-headed, huh? I’ll remember that.”

“Nah, Gracie just knew what she wanted. To be in charge.”

Bucky huffed a laugh and patted Steve on the back, taking a step back and breaking the circle. “Guess she’s long gone, huh? My folks, Becca, Tessie?”

Steve swallowed the sudden lump in his throat. “I had a chance to see Tessie before she passed. Becca and Gracie, they were already gone when I came out of the ice. Your folks … your folks both died back in the 1950s.”

“So we really are the only family either of us has left, huh?”

“You’ve got nieces, nephews, if you want to look them up –“

“Nah. I’m just a story to them. They’re nothing to me. At least I got you, Steve. I … I haven’t said thank you properly. For sticking by me. For having my back. I never expected … well. I didn’t have any reason to think –“

“I woulda had your back sooner, but I couldn’t find you. I looked. Sam helped. Two years, Buck. Two years we looked, followed every lead. You didn’t want to be found, did you?”

“Yeah, that Sam. He’s why I didn’t let you find me,” Bucky answered with a cockeyed grin that was belayed by the shimmering tears still poised in his eyes. Then he shook his head, and pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes. “Seriously, I was pretty messed up. I didn’t really know who you were at first. It took a while to get my head together, sort through all the memories, fragments.”

“Those notebooks of yours?”

“Yeah. I write down what I remember, add pictures if I can find them. It helps me keep the memories, you know? It’s getting easier. Having you around, it’s easier now. It helps.”

“You know I’ll do anything for you, Buck? You know that, right?”

“Yeah, I think I get that now. I still don’t know if I’m worth it, Steve –“

“I do. Trust that I do. You’re always worth it, Buck.”

Bucky drew a deep, calming breath and nodded. “I may not agree, but I’m glad to hear that.”

Steve smiled at Bucky and clapped him on the shoulder again, and they resumed their walk to meet ujp with the others. As they came up on shared space they heard the sound of conversation and laughter. Bucky offered Steve a reassuring smile, and they stepped in to join the team for a communal meal. Team-building. A piece of home.

&&&

“So, my ex and her new hubby aren’t happy, but they get it. Dunno how I got that lucky, but they do. Cassie’s excited about seeing jungle animals – think the king would let me go on safari or something? With my phone so I can Skype with Cassie?” Scott Lang asked. “And maybe my girlfriend, Hope?”

“You’ll have to ask him. He seems willing to let us lead relatively normal lives here. I don’t see why not,” Steve answered as he scooped more hash browns onto his plate. Wanda watched him with a satisfied smile on her face, and gestured toward the serving platter of bacon, waggling her eyebrows suggestively. Steve blushed and ducked his head, then nodded, grinning. Wanda’s smile widened, and she bit her lip as her fingers twisted slightly, glowing red, and the platter lifted up from the table and hovered.

“Whoa!” Scott exclaimed, jumping back in his seat.

“What the –“ Sam said, frowning at the large platter unsteadily moving across the table.

“Steady …“ Bucky prompted, eyes focused on the plate as it passed his face.

“Wanda …” Steve started to admonish, but Bucky kicked him under the table, earning him a glare from Steve.

“Control,” Wanda said firmly. “I am practicing _control_.”

“Huh,” Sam replied, and then settled back comfortably in his chair to observe. “I never thought of that.”  
  


Clint watched with a spreading grin on his face, happily eating his omelet. When the platter hovered over Steve’s seat, he broke into a chuckle. “You go, girl,” he applauded. “Now, we’d’a treated that like it was a waste of talent back at the compound, but it’s a great idea – how’re you ever going to have fine control if you don’t practice on small, fragile stuff?”

Wanda manipulated her fingers a little more, and the platter gradually lowered into Steve’s hands. He half-bowed in his seat toward her, a grin lighting his face. “Well-done, Wanda.”

“That’s showing him!” Bucky said excitedly, elbowing Steve in his left ribs.

“So what’s the sudden interest in controlling small objects, hmm?” Sam asked, taking a sip of his coffee. 

“Bucky’s brain,” Wanda answered simply, smiling over the rim of her own cup of tea.

“I, _what?_ ” Steve asked, his hand stalling in mid-air with a pile of bacon hanging off the serving fork. Bucky reached over and plucked a couple of pieces and shoved them in his mouth. “Buck?”

“He asked if I can remove the trigger words. I don’t think I have the control to do that. But I can learn. I _will_ learn.”

Bucky turned and gave Steve a small smile around his chewing.

Steve drew in a sharp breath and held Bucky’s eyes for a moment. “Well, that’s good, Wanda. Keep up the good work.”

“Wait, we’re not gonna talk about this?” Sam interjected, his tone worried.

“Look, Sam, I know you don’t like Bucky –“

“How I feel about Barnes is irrelevant. We’ve seen what those trigger words do, Steve. Do you really want Wanda rooting around in his head? What if she triggers something else, something we can’t contain?”

“Sam –“

“No, he’s right,” Wanda said flatly, the light snuffed out of her eyes. “I’m a weapon of mass destruction – isn’t that what Stark calls me? I could not possibly be useful to help save a life.” She tossed down her cutlery and screeched her chair back, quickly leaving the room.

“Fuck you, Wilson,” Bucky growled. “Have any idea how long it took me for her to open up, feel comfortable enough to even talk?”

“I’m actually the one who suggested to Steve it would be good for you to –“

“It’s okay, Buck –“

“It’s _not_ okay, Steve. Whether or not I let her ‘root around in my head’ is beside the point. She was focused, she was excited, she felt useful and engaged. She was just starting to feel better after what they did to her. And you just had to go shit on it, didn’t you, Wilson? You had to take that away from her.”

“So you weren’t going to let her – “

“Hadn’t decided yet. It was worth thinking about. And it gave her a goal, something to shoot for. Something to feel worthy over. I know how that feels, I know how important it is to feel like you have something to offer. And when that’s taken away,” his voice cracked on a sob, “I know how deep that cuts into your soul.” 

“Hey, man, I didn’t know. Wanda’s –“

“She knows everybody thinks she’s dangerous,” Bucky spat. “She _knows_.” He shoved out his chair and stood abruptly. “I better go check on her –“

Steve’s hand shot out and grabbed onto Bucky’s wrist, holding him in check. “No. I’ll go. I think it might carry more weight coming from me, Buck. No offense.”

“None taken,” Bucky answered, relaxing so Steve would release his wrist. He nodded and dropped back into the chair, still glaring at Sam.

“Good. In the meantime, how about the two of you figure out how you’re gonna get along, huh? You’ve had a bee up your ass since we recovered Bucky after the river, Sam.”

“He tried to break my face!” Sam protested. “He keeps trying to break _me!_ ”

“It wasn’t him!” Steve shouted back, finally done with this shit. Everyone around the table was looking at him now, even Clint had put down his fork to regard Steve seriously. Clint’s eyebrows quirked up in a “seriously, man?” query, and Steve shrugged. “It wasn’t him. We’ve been over this. It was the programming. And Wanda could offer a way to remove it. I dunno what’s really bothering you, Sam, but figure it out. Just … figure it out,” he added desperately, and stalked out of the dining room.

&&&

Steve didn’t get very far when he ran into T’Challa in the hallway outside the room he’d just left. 

“Your highness – er, T’Challa,” he greeted, his senses testing the area for a hint of Wanda.

“Steve. I was coming to see if you would like to tour one of our great art museums, but I see that there is something wrong with Miss Maximoff?”

“Did you see Wanda? Did she look –“

“Upset? Yes. She was crying. I asked what was wrong, but she just apologized and went toward the lower observation suite. Is there something I can do?”

Steve sighed and scrubbed his hand over his lower face. “I don’t think so. Not right now, at least. I think what Wanda really needs is a friend to believe in her. I was going to find her, see if I could help.”

“A friend. That is a very nice word. If I may join you on your journey? I would not intrude on your time with her. But I am curious.”

“Curious?”

“How a leader can treat a follower as a friend.”

“I … I think we became friends first, actually. After Sokovia. She was all alone in the world, she’d lost her parents when she was young, and then her brother while we were trying to get everyone off the city before it crashed. I know what it feels like to be alone. We talked, got to know each other. She’s a good kid.”

“A kid with immense power.”

“It’s like everybody looks at her and sees a monster. She’s not. She’s a sweet girl who wants to do good.”

“And she is your friend.” He huffed a small laugh. “I envy you that, Steve.”

“Why? Surely as prince –“

“A prince has companions, comrades. A king, he has advisors, confidantes. A man … he has friends. I have been the Black Panther to my country for several years, prince all my life. And now king. Friends are a luxury I never had the opportunity to have.”

“You were educated outside Wakanda. Not even then?”

“Everyone, it seemed, was aware of my royal status. It … _colored_ relationships.”

“Yeah. I get that. Everybody knows me as Captain America. Few people ever see Steve Rogers. Buck … Bucky knew me before I became Captain America, before I became _this_ ,” he gestured at himself. “Sometimes I feel like you – I have colleagues, teammates. But very few friends. Thank you for helping me protect the ones I do have.”

“And perhaps one day you will count me as one of them,” T’Challa said softly.

Steve put out his hand gravely and looked T’Challa in the eye. “I already do.” T’Challa took the hand and shook it warmly.

“If I may ask – what upset Miss Maximoff?”

“She wants to be able to remove the trigger codes from Bucky’s brain, and some of the others … well, let’s just say they weren’t enthusiastic about it, about what she might trigger accidentally.”

“It is not a small concern.”

“No. But it was the thing she was excited about, was focusing on to get her powers under better control. Now she feels worthless.”

T’Challa nodded thoughtfully. “The words, they are in Russian.”

“The whole book is, I think.”

“I will have one of our translators work on translating it to English. The book is handwritten – it looks like ongoing notes on the program. There may be other trigger words inside.”

“More ways to hurt Bucky.”

“If we are to remove them – however we are to remove them – we must know they are there. I promise you the translation will be kept in the strictest confidence. But we must know – do you not agree, Steve?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think having the book translated is a great idea. It might give us clues on how to get the codes out.”

“It may also reveal more about how the codes were implanted – which can only help your friend’s case. If he ever wants to leave Wakanda, he will have to prove his innocence to the world.”

“First he’d have to believe in it.”

“Then I think you have your work cut out for you on many fronts, Steve. As I do on mine.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Wanda. I really do like her, but I can see how easily the others could fear her. She's so young, too young to be saddled with such responsibility. I like the idea of Steve as older brother, though. A family for them both.
> 
> I wonder though, how is Vision feeling these days about the separation from Wanda? He'd been so sure he was doing the right thing. Does he know what happened to Wanda? And how is he coping with those pesky emotions and distractions that are starting to crop up? Maybe I'll dip into that aspect of the aftermath of Captain America Civil War next time ... stick with me!


	8. Resilience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> #TeamCap has suffered a rift, and tensions are rising. Wanda's fragile confidence is dissolving into despair. The Sam and Bucky Comedy Hour looks like it's turning into the Rock 'em Sock 'em Hour.
> 
> Questions I asked myself include:
> 
> Just what the hell is wrong with Sam? And how does the team fix it?
> 
> Is Wanda too far gone, or can she fight back?
> 
> Where's Nat?
> 
> And for that matter, where is justice?
> 
> And can Sharon Carter be awesome if she's not kissing Steve? (The answer to that is yes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another talkie chapter, but talking is the one thing that most of these characters don't do well, and need to.

Wilson and Barnes were yelling at each other, still separated by a couple of places at the table, but it was really starting to look like Falcon and Winter Soldier were going to be rumbling in the middle of the hash browns. Next to him, Barton just kept eating placidly, not even paying attention while the war of words and the posturing kept ratcheting toward operatic heights.

If Scott wanted to see pissing wars among alpha males, he would’ve stayed in prison. He kind of expected better of the Avengers and their pals.

Then again, he was now in that number, sort of. Did that mean he was going to have to get butch, too?

Didn’t seem to concern Barton, so maybe there was a goofy sidekick clause he could invoke.

The other two men were a hair’s breadth away from shoving each other and getting epically physical when Barton put down his utensils, patted his lips with his napkin, and calmly stood up and shouted, “That’s enough, you two knuckleheads!”

Like guilty school boys caught in the act, Barnes and Wilson burst apart and turned their respective glares on Barton. Who, apparently, could not be fazed by even the murderous intent of the Winter Soldier. Or the grumpy visage of Sam Wilson, ex-pararescue.

“I got this, Clint,” Wilson countered angrily.

“You got nothin’,” Barnes shot back, and it looked like the pair of them were going to go at it again when Barton – Clint – broke in again.

“The whole goddamned world’s against us, we’re stuck in a foreign country away from our families, I for one am not happy about missing my little girl’s ballet recital, and the two of you have to act like somebody stole your fuckin’ Legos?”

A daughter. Who did ballet. Hey, maybe Scott fit in with this crowd better than he thought. He started to say something, but Clint cut him off with a quiet, “Not now, Scott.” Scott closed his mouth and nodded sagely, turning his attention back to the combatants, who were starting to have the good grace to look abashed. A little. If you squinted. And crossed your eyes.

“Now. Mind telling me what the fuck is going on with you two? Cap’s right – you’ve had something stuck up your ass since Germany, Wilson. And you, Barnes, you realize that Sam’s the one who’s been doing the majority of the legwork trying to find you for your bestie? While you just sat in Bucharest hanging out?”

“I, uh –“ Barnes started, and sort of reared back to take a look at Wilson. “You did?”

“I did. ‘Cos Cap needed help. He wouldn’t do therapy, so we did hide and seek with a psychopath –“

“I told you, that wasn’t me. I don’t do that anymore. It’s not my choice – “

“Now why don’t I believe you?”

“And there we are. Okay, kids,” Clint announced, clapping his hands together and coming around the table to sit on the side opposite Wilson and Barnes. He propped his feet up on the table and crossed them at the ankles as he tilted back in the chair. Scott was sure if he tried it, he’d be on his ass, but Clint seemed to have a preternatural sense of balance. “Why don’t you believe Barnes, Sam? Is it so hard to accept that someone might be brainwashed into doing things against their will?”

“No. I’ve seen it before in POWs, guys who had their will stripped away, would do anything their captors told ‘em too. Result of torture and privation. No, I get _that_.”

“Good. ‘Cos I was gonna have to whoop your ass otherwise. Seeing as I have personal experience of the phenomenon. So, what, then?”

“Guy turns on a dime. He’s good, he’s bad. He’s a sorry-ass homeless guy, he’s a world class killer. I’m supposed to just believe that’s programming when he nearly kills me, kills _Cap_? He bats his baby blues at Cap, and all’s forgiven. Until the next time. Then he breaks Steve’s heart again, and does it all again.”

“The _only_ way I’d ever hurt Steve is against my _will_ ,” Barnes gritted out, and Scott was struck not just by the sincerity, but the raw pain of it. “You don’t think what’s in my head scares me? You don’t think I worry about what I might do if someone triggers Hydra’s programming again? Steve is my best friend, my _brother_ – _he_ was able to break through Hydra’s programming when nothing else could. But not when the codes were used. He wanted me on the rescue with him. I refused. I couldn’t take the risk that there were Hydra prisoners on the Raft, that one of them might know. How to bring him back.”

“Him?” Clint asked, jerking his chin up.

“The Winter Soldier. He’s like a parasite living inside me. I need those codes out of my head. I need all trace of Hydra removed. Or I need to be put down.”

“I –“ Wilson said, eyes wide and throat working.

Yeah. He went there.

“Nobody’s being put down,” Clint announced succinctly. “We’ve lost enough. Okay, so Wilson thinks Barnes isn’t genuinely brainwashed and what? Poses a threat to Steve? Is playing us? And Barnes is afraid his genuine brainwashing will hurt Steve. He’s afraid he poses a threat to Steve. Seems to me you’re both on the same side. You both want to protect Steve.”

“That’s all I ever wanted,” Barnes said quietly, looking at the floor. Scott was suddenly struck at how young he and Steve Rogers really were – both of them in their mid-twenties when they were called up, changed, and spat out by time.

Ugh. Scott really needed to stop reading Captain America fan fiction on his Kindle.

Wilson was quiet now, his attention shifting between Barnes and Clint, not frantic, but measured.

Clint uncrossed his feet, dropped them to the floor, and straightened in his chair. He picked up a fork set at the place, and considered it in silence for a moment, turning it over in his hands. “I get that. When Loki changed me, I was aware, but I couldn’t do anything to alter my behavior. I was riding in the cab, but I wasn’t driving. Everything I did was motivated by devotion to Loki’s cause, to his goals. I killed people under his influence. Good people. SHIELD agents. Some of ‘em I knew. Some of ‘em I knew their families. My job was to have their backs, and they died at my hands.”

Sam’s attention was riveted on Clint now, as was Scott’s. The horror was all the more acute told in that quiet, matter of fact tone. He could see the tension in the set of his mouth, the sudden tightness around his eyes, the deliberate way he turned and twisted the fork.

“I’m sorry, man. I didn’t know the details,” Wilson said softly. He pulled his chair out quietly and sat down, laced his fingers together and rested his hands on the table like he was saying grace. Barnes glanced at him, then back to Barton, and followed suit, placing his one hand palm down on the tabletop.

“Lotta therapy. Lotta time spent on my farm with my wife, my kids. Renovating’s a good way to get your head together, y’know? I keep renovating because I can’t imagine what I’ll do with myself when it’s done. And now, because I backed Cap, because I felt that Wanda should be protected, I’m here, and my wife, my kids, my renovating projects, they’re all somewhere I can’t get to.” He put down the fork and looked up, and Scott gasped softly at the pain in his face. Wilson and Barnes remained still, their attention locked on Barton.

“When I was under Loki’s influence, nothing could stop me. He could’ve commanded me to take out my own family, and I would’ve done it. I’d’ve been aware, and I would’ve done it. Nat slammed her head into mine, and knocked me out. I was me when I came to. I was back in control. And I had to face everything I’d done when Loki was in control. Cap wanted support to take out Loki, I jumped at the chance.”

“When those codes are used, I go away. Someone else is in charge, running the show. I still have all my skills, all my awareness, but I’m just not there. After it’s over … I don’t remember at first, but gradually, whatever happened comes back to me. Like … like dawn is slowly breaking. I didn’t know Howard or his wife when I … when I killed them. I didn’t know who they were until last year sometime, when the memory came back. It came back at me all at once. I killed a friend. Beat him to death, then strangled his wife. At the time, I wasn’t even aware what was happening, my body was just following someone else’s script,” Barnes said, his voice tight and laced with pain. “I don’t ever want to come to find that the person I hurt is Steve. I don’t want to hurt anyone else ever again.”

Wilson picked up a sugar packet and tapped it against the table, turned it, tapped it again. Kept going round and round. Finally he asked, “But Wanda?”

“Her powers come from the same place Loki’s did,” Clint answered. “Same place Vision’s powers come from. That stone. Wanda probably has the power.”

“But not the control,” Bucky added. “Look, it’s a long shot. Maybe the codes can’t be removed. Maybe this is all I get, and then it’s time for me to check out. But when Steve introduced me to Wanda and asked me to help, she was dead inside. That girl’s carrying a load of guilt, way too much for someone so young. Yeah, I know, she did some bad stuff, some stupid stuff. But she’s trying to atone. I get that. Jesus, I get that. But if all you think about is your guilt? It eats you up. I know how that feels. She needed something more, something to give her hope, purpose. Even if she never gets the chance to try on my head, is there any harm in her gaining more control? Way I hear it, finer control might’ve prevented that shitshow in Lagos.”

“Yeah,” Wilson agreed soberly. He tilted his head and scratched at his temple. “Yeah, you could be right.”

“And if we do let her try to take the codes out?” Clint asked.

“Thinking there’s gonna have to be a lot of controls in place. Steve to hold me down.” Barnes lifted his eyes and looked directly at Clint. “You to take the shot if it goes sideways.”

Clint nodded, but said nothing.

Clint just agreed to _kill_ Barnes if the procedure went bad.

And Wilson seemed to realize it, from the way his eyes widened and his lips parted slightly. “Look, man, I’m sorry. Steve doesn’t think straight where you’re concerned. Seemed like all you brought him was heartache and pain. Lotta pain.”

Barnes stared at the table as he spoke. “Why do you think I didn’t let you guys find me? I knew I wasn’t going to bring anything good into his life. He’s the last person in the world I ever want to hurt.” He lifted his hand and flexed it into a fist, staring at it like it surprised him, his brows furrowed.

He definitely had the angsty bad boy look down pat. He could teach a master class if he ever needed some quick cash. But Scott felt that what he said was real, from the heart, and apparently so did Wilson. The expression he turned on Barnes was almost grief-stricken in the pain it conveyed.

“So. Are we done with the bullshit, boys? Hmm? ‘Cos we got more important things to worry about than whose dick it bigger. Like how we get the world to understand that we are not criminals for standing our ground on principal. And how we’re all gonna get home.”

Both Wilson and Barnes looked like they were about to argue – Scott could hear Barnes claiming his dick was bigger because of his serum, and Wilson claiming that once you go black you can’t go back, but thankfully those voices were just in his head, and neither man said anything that stupid. Which was good, because now Scott had to bleach his brain to get rid of musings on the size of either Wilson’s or Barnes’s dicks.

“Yeah,” Barnes agreed on an exhaled breath, as Wilson nodded yes. 

“Great, crisis averted,” Scott declared, clapping his hands together. “Could you pass the bacon, please?”

All three men pivoted their heads to look at him, but he just grinned. And kept grinning at the giggles and chuckles that followed. He ultimately had to get up and get the damned bacon for himself, but it was worth it.

&&&

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“I did not mean to mess things up. I did not mean … I did not mean so much. And the things I did mean, they weren’t much better, were they.”

Steve sat next to Wanda yoga style on the floor of the observation room, the jungle floor stretched out only inches beyond the glass. Colorful insects flitted away from the swoop of strange looking birds, and alien looking leaves and fronds swayed gently in the breeze.

“We’ve been over this. You were still under von Struyker’s influence then. If not under his direct control, at least under his influence, his suggestion.”

“You make excuses for me. You are good at that. You try to see the best in the people you care about. The world doesn’t see me the way you do, Steve.” She played with the hem of her skirt for a moment in silence. “Vision said that he wanted the world to see me the way he does.”

“That’d be nice. The world has a way of putting people into boxes and not letting them out. I’ve spent all my life in one kind of box or another. Honestly, this is the first time I think I’ve been free.”

She turned to him and smiled faintly. “You don’t think you would miss it? Saving the world?”

“If no one wants me to save the world, what can I do? I can save the world where I am. With the people I care about. You, Clint –“

“Sam?”

“Sam’s a good friend. I don’t get why he and Buck are so shitty to each other. I don’t expect them to be best pals, but civil would be nice.”

“Give them time. Sam is like that son, the one who remains loyal to his father, but the father throws parties when the other son comes home.”

“The Prodigal Son,” Steve guessed, brow furrowed in confusion. “I may be old, but I’m no one’s dad.”

“No, but Sam gave you all his loyalty, all his time – he searched the world for you while you were saving it. Trying to find Bucky. And then, suddenly there he is. And he hurt you, he hurt Sam. Again. He doesn’t have any reason to trust Bucky. He only knows the Winter Soldier. He thinks you are confused, trusting a man who isn’t there any longer. He thinks it will get you killed.”

“You’ve talked to Bucky. What do you think?”

“I think Sam will come around. And Bucky will stop being jealous of your new friend. I think that very few people are lucky enough to have a friendship like you and Bucky have. I had acquaintances, people I helped, people I worked with. And Pietro. He was my best friend. We were everything to each other. Since he … you and Clint, you have helped a lot. You are like a big brother to me, something I never had before. Pietro … he was older by a few minutes, but he was really much younger. And Clint … Clint is like an uncle,” she added with a smile. “He is very kind to me. He think he owes me a debt, but he doesn’t understand how much I owe him. From Sokovia. All the time since. For getting me out of the compound, giving me a reason to get off my ass.”

“Getting you in trouble. With me.”

“One way or another, Steve, I would have been involved in a war. With you, at least, I was doing something good.”

“Wanda –“

“Control. I need to learn control. And as long as King T’Challa is willing to have me, I think this is the best place for me to learn that control.”

“Did you exchange one cell for a bigger one?”

“This is better than where Ross put me. I think it is better than the compound, too. I miss Vis, but he … he said he wasn’t afraid of me, but he was. Afraid of what I would do. What I could do. He did not believe I had enough control. I have a lot to make up for, Steve. I want to. You believe me, right?”

“Sure. I know you want to do the right thing.”

“I may not be able to help Bucky, but I want to try. I want to aim for it. Sam … sometimes Sam says what everyone else is thinking. But I would not reach into Bucky’s mind without a plan, without precautions. I think this is something we would need to speak to T’Challa about, figure out the best way –“

“We will. We will, Wanda. For now, you work on your control. Work on how you can show the world that they don’t need to be afraid. Yeah, we’ve all done some stuff we’re not proud of. But we can rise above it, make amends, make the world a better place. Right?”

“Right.” 

They sat in silence, looking out into the riot of color and shapes that was the jungle tamed beyond the window. At length, Wanda drew in a deep breath and asked, “Do you think we will ever be able to leave Wakanda?”

“Yes. I have faith. I need to believe that people will eventually do the right thing. T’Challa seems to think the Accords can be modified. Heck, Tony said they could be modified. But I couldn’t sign them as they were. I’m not sorry. I would have been honor bound to … to kill Buck. And I won’t do that. I can’t. Either way, I’d’ve been branded a criminal. I’d like to think this was better, but I’m … I’m not so sure.”

Wanda was silent again, looking out into the light filtered through the broad leaves of the trees towering high above them , the jungle canopy. A lizard unlike anything Steve had seen scurried to the top of a rock, turning its head right and left, and then continued on its way down the other side of the rock, its tiny feet clinging to the uneven surface as it paused again, as if listening for something.

“You can never be a criminal, Steve Rogers. You don’t have it in you. You will always find a way to do the right thing,” she said softly, leaned against him and wrapping her arms around his, resting her head against his shoulder.

“I hope you’re right, Wanda. I hope I haven’t led you all to ruin,” he answered just as softly, turning to rest his cheek against her hair.

&&&

A day had dragged out to two, then three, and now a week. Still nothing from the terrorist task force confirming Zemo’s capture, and Barnes’s innocence in the UN bombing.

Every day, Sharon Carter met Nat here in the café to give her an update, more excuses, more pleas for another day.

If it weren’t for Sharon’s pedigree, and the fact that she’d materially helped Steve Rogers and his team when they were officially criminals and fugitives, Natasha would wonder if Sharon weren’t playing her.

So if not Sharon, then her boss.

Nat finally told Sharon the time for extensions was up. Either Ross announced to the public, or Nat would do it for him.

On day eight, Natasha skipped the café, and sat in her hotel room with the television on, waiting.

&&&

“Remind me again why you’re not in custody for aiding and abetting a fugitive?”

“Because I’m the best you have.”

“There is that. Look, I know what you’re here for. The same thing you’ve been here for for the last week. I can’t help you, Sharon.”

“You know this is going to backfire. I’ve been keeping her at bay with a promise that this will happen.”

“It’s not your place to make commitments for this unit, and we should have her in custody, not be dancing to her tune!”

“She brought him in, Everett. And you heard what the king had to say, the testimony he provided. Hell, Zemo has confessed, on the record! Why are we still silent on this? It’s not for the public good – the public is nervous as hell that the bogeyman is still at large, and any public buildings are potential targets.”

Everett K. Ross sighed deeply, dragging his palm along his face. “Do I really have to spell it out?”

“I think you do, because nothing is making any sense.”

“The Panel is panicking. To find out that they had it all wrong, that a kill order had been issued. That the Avengers broke Leipzig over this when a … less emotional … response might have averted it. Well. It’s not looking good for the Accords Panel on their first day out.”

“So they’re compounding it by suppressing the truth, holding a man without due process, and letting the public continue to think that there is a clear and present menace? C’mon, Everett – you know that’s wrong. And we’re a US task force, not a UN unit. Why are we in lockstep with the Panel, huh?  
  


“Because Secretary Ross has hitched his fortunes to the Panel. And he’s already facing some tough questions because your old friend managed to spring his team from the Raft. Who comes up with this stuff? Frustrated science fiction writers?”

“People who’ve watched too many bad spy movies,” Sharon agreed. “Look, Barnes is innocent of the crime he’s accused of committing – his civil rights have been violated and –“

“He may not be guilty of _this_ crime, Sharon. But the Winter Soldier is not innocent.”

“Maybe. Maybe not. We don’t know until he’s had his day in court, do we. With a real doctor evaluating his mental state, not a murderous imposter. Everett, everything about this situation is bass-ackwards wrong. We’ve been handed a gift by the king of Wakanda. There’s a lot of public sentiment on his side right now, what with losing his father in the UN bombing. He’s called twice already to get an update. We’re not going to be able to fend of him _and_ the Black Widow for much longer. These are not idle threats, sir. You know she’ll do it – she’s done it before. And King T’Challa turned Zemo over to us for a reason – justice. He of all people has a right to justice from the UN bombing. If we fail to deliver, how do you think that’s going to affect US-Wakandan relations?”

“When did you get so bossy? I don’t remember you being this bossy when you joined the team. Assertive, yes. Smart, good problem solving skills. But not bossy.”

“In my blood, sir. I am a Carter, after all.”

“Hmm. Sorry about your aunt. She was an amazing woman, by all accounts.”

“That she was. And so is Romanoff. What can I tell her?”

“I don’t like being held hostage by an ex-spy or a royal in a catsuit.”

“No, sir.”

“But you’re right. There is the matter of due process. We are an American unit, and the Constitution still has meaning. Draft the press release for my review. Keep politics out of it, Sharon. I know whose side you’re on, and even if I can’t prove who lifted Captain America’s shield, and that flight pack thing, _and_ that frigging backpack, I know it was you. I want to trust you. Prove to me I can.”

“And the Panel?”

“You’re right about them. If they want the public to trust them, they need to be trustworthy. Transparent. Honest. I’ll alert them of the press release right before we release it.”

“Good. Sir.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get the hell out of here. You’ve got a press release to write. And I’ve got Tums I need to swallow.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may be the last chapter I post for a few days. I've got to get ready for an event in Brooklyn this weekend, and then I'm gearing up for a road trip to Michigan for a convention that is really just a big-ass family reunion. A couple of days of downtime, and then Wizard World Philly. Where I will meet the stars of Captain America The First Avenger. By the time my vacation is over, I'm gonna need another. Seriously.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me! And please do continue to sound off with your own theories and questions!


	9. Regret

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I hadn't planned to write another chapter so soon, and I'm gonna have to hustle to catch up on the stuff I need to do tonight for a charity pickup tomorrow. But ... this was written in response to questions in the comments about what's going on with Team Stark while I focus on Team Cap.
> 
> I didn't expect the point of view this is written from until it basically started writing itself. The questions I asked while writing this chapter included:
> 
> What's going on in the world?
> 
> How is Vision faring as he has to deal with guilt and separation?
> 
> How'd Rhodey doing?
> 
> How is Tony doing?
> 
> So ... here goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One of the things i love about writing works in progress and posting chapters as I write them is feedback. I love hearing the opinions of readers - even negative ones, because sometimes they inspire a new direction, a new energy to the story. I know that so much of online fandom is brittle about comments, about never saying anything negative, and people who offer constructive criticism are often vilified by the people they take the time to offer commentary to. I'm not perfect, and I'm not thick-skinned, but I like to think that I write to tell stories that are honest and engaging, so I appreciate it whenever anyone takes the time and has the courage to tell me what's not working, as well as what is.
> 
> I have the best readers in the world. You don't let me get away with shit. :)

He did not experience time as the others did. He knew this because they spoke of befores and afters and I remember whens and I hope tos. He experienced a sort of continuous _now_ , he supposed, a stream of time in which he could, if he chose, dip into the flow at any point and experience it firsthand. For the first time, for the tenth time. It did not matter, for time flowed not in a linear progression, but in a chaotic jumble of nows that he could sample in their multitude, all at once.

He chose to live his life linearly. He chose to live his life in the narrow constructs of human understanding, brief as the death of an atom, as complex as the glowing gem embedded in his forehead. He supposed that he might regret his decision to scale his existence down to their level, as the centuries and the millennia and the eras stretched out before him.

But when he thought of liquid green eyes, dancing with mischief, a red mist of “magic” swirling … he felt frustrated at his own lack of understanding, his own lack of human empathy.

As a synthetic being, and one who could manipulate matter and energy around himself, he could take care of any physical limitations or requirements with a simple flex of his imagination.

But emotionally … he was deficient, unskilled. Unfocused. And that lack of focus, that distraction, had cost Colonel Rhodes dearly.

He sat here in the Avengers compound – a facility dedicated to a collective that existed no more – and observed the fracture that had started as a philosophical argument and ended in a level of pain that seemed impossible to endure.

Colonel Rhodes bore his injury with surprising grace and tenacity, flinging himself into physical therapy, into mastering the technology that Mr. Stark created for him with every new release.

Master Parker had returned to his life, and Mr. Stark spoke fondly of the “spiderling” who blossomed under his tutelage, under his patronage.

T’Challa, the king of Wakanda, had returned home. And not alone. Vision knew that that was where Wanda had gone. Where Captain Rogers, Sergeant Barnes, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, and Scott Lang had all gone to recoup, regroup, and recharge. He wondered how they fared. He found he missed Wanda more than he expected, more than he wanted. Because he knew that he had damaged that fragile connection between them beyond repair.

That she turned her powers on him, drove his physical manifestation through layers upon layers of building, mattered little to him. Mr. Stark had been unhappy about the damage, but he’d dispatched repairmen to heal the damage to the building without another glance.

He had turned his powers on the others, on Sam Wilson, who had no defense against him, on Colonel Rhodes, who had not expected an attack from one of his own.

Friendly fire. That’s what Colonel Rhodes had called it. Friendly. A common enough event that it had a name. Common enough that humans were divorced from the horror. 

He’d pulled up the curious phrase, the oxymoron, from his vast stores of knowledge, and studied it, dispassionately, empirically. Unplanned and potentially deadly fire from a source known to be friendly, known to be allied. 

For him, a nearly fatal miscalculation.

For Colonel Rhodes, a momentary fracture and a lifetime of pain and difficulty. 

All due to the instantaneous distraction of liquid green eyes staring into his own. Soft skin against his hand. A warm, pliant body in his arms.

He had not thought himself capable of such things.

He had thought his synthetic nature freed him from such concerns.

He wondered briefly if perhaps the fact that her powers and his existence stemmed from the blowing gem in his forehead created a connection that somehow caused this anomaly.

And then he thought of those eyes, that smile, that soft, soft skin, warm and flush with life … and he realized at that at some point in his journey from AI to synthetic to this now, some part of him had fundamentally changed, bringing him more firmly into the linear progression of time, into the realm of the human.

And he did not know if this should concern him, or excite him.

He could go to Wanda if he chose. No distance or physical barrier stood in his way.

But perhaps … perhaps she would not want to see him. Would close the door to him. And he would be alone.

At one time, this would not have concerned him.

But now … in this now … he looked out across the broad expanse of space that was the great room of the compound, to where Tony Stark worked silently on a project that didn’t interest him, as he cast anxious glances at his StarkPhone. Waiting for a phone call he might never receive.

In many ways, Mr. Stark was Vision’s creator. Programmer of Jarvis. Architect of the synthesis of Helen Cho’s and Ultron’s android made of flesh and vibranium with the AI. He’d given Vision a home, a place and a role. Time to grow and understand. He’d dignified him with an array of human emotions, human responses. Anger. Disappointment. Sometimes pride.

He shared his sadness.

Miss Potts had been stopping by more frequently in the days since Leipzig. Providing reports on the mood of the Stark Industries Board of Directors. The latest communication from Secretary Ross, who grew tired of Mr. Stark putting him on hold and watching the light blink. News from Germany and Wakanda.

The television was never on in the great room. He knew that sometimes Colonel Rhodes watched the set in his rooms, mostly Netflix and the occasional news program.

But Mr. Stark didn’t watch the news any longer.

He didn’t want to be reminded of how the world has changed.

Change was inevitable. 

Vision wondered if it was always so painful. If change always felt like something critical had been lost, and little had been gained.

The news that the joint terrorism task force had Helmut Zemo in custody, and that Zemo had admitted to orchestrating the UN bombing and subsequent triggering of the Winter Soldier had hit Mr. Stark particularly hard, especially when it was announced that the Winter Soldier, James Buchanan Barnes, would not be sought in connection with the event.

Debate regarding responsibility and retribution when the individual who held the gun was under the influence of brainwashing proceeded to fill the airwaves. If Vision chose, he could tune into the broadcasts directly. Sometimes he did, to learn while not disrupting Mr. Stark’s work.

Many experts came out suggesting that James Buchanan Barnes needed to be brought in for study, that much could be learned about the human brain considering all that he’d been through, for as long as he endured it.

Some suggested he should be put down, his remains burned and salted, and buried in the deepest pit of hell.

Others, such as the ACLU, called for an examination of the records of Sergeant Barnes’s incarceration, and for a full pardon, globally.

Some veterans groups called for the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Some called for a pit to be dug in Guantanamo Bay, and for him to be remanded there for the rest of his unnatural life.

It seemed everyone in the world had an opinion regarding James Buchanan Barnes. Just as many had opinions regarding Captain Rogers, and those were equally interesting and instructive.

Nothing was heard from Captain Rogers, or Sergeant Barnes. Nor King T’Challa, Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, or Scott Lang. Natasha Romanoff was silent, but this surprised no one.

The one thing Vision learned from all of this is that human interaction cannot be calculated using an equation. He still believed that the show of strength by Iron Man and the enhanced community did present an invitation to criminals to best them. But perhaps that was not the argument that he had thought it to be.

Humans were nothing without goals. It was a part of human nature to excel, to break boundaries, to scale heights.

Was that a reason to legislate against them?

He still believed in his choice, but he grew to understand that the question was far more complex and tangled than he’d originally assumed.

Like humanity, in microcosm.

Mr. Stark eschewed all efforts to get him to speak on the subject of Captain Rogers, his compatriots, and the events at Leipzig. Miss Potts fielded those questions, informing journalists that the matter was still under discussion and investigation, and she could not comment at this time. She did, on at least one occasion, admit that she hoped that Captain Rogers would come home soon, as she missed him.

She did not say that she missed Mr. Stark.

But Vision could see that he missed her.

They spoke sometimes, Miss Potts and Mr. Stark. Mr. Stark seemed drained, paper thin, yet a spark of hope burned in his eyes.

Hope. A distinctly human invention. He hoped. He hoped for understanding. He hoped that one day he might look into those liquid green eyes again, and find absolution. Acceptance.

A synthetic being could last beyond time itself. Even though he experienced time differently from humans, regret was a terrible companion for forever.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was in response to comments. I really do like seeing people's theories and questions. I am not answering questions about the movie itself, though - if you haven't seen it, get your butt to a theatre and experience it with the hive mind. It's worth it. :)
> 
> So, this may be the last you see for a week or more. Or, I may get the bug to write so bad, I can't help myself. I'm hoping the next thing I finish to post, however, is the penultimate chapter of I, Barnes. What a smutfest ... :)


	10. Redaction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> All that I had to do today, and I couldn't help myself writing another chapter.
> 
> In which I asked myself ...
> 
> What's in the book?
> 
> How does Bucky see himself?
> 
> What might some next steps be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So in various FB groups I'm in, there are conversations about guilt and responsibility regarding the Winter Soldier. One of the things that struck me is that Hydra had to go to some serious effort in order to make Bucky into the Winter Soldier. I know there's been a lot made of he wasn't a perfect guy, he already was able to kill, maybe it was darkness in him that made it possible for him to become the Winter Soldier. But it struck me that if it was so easy for him to become the Asset, why did they have to implant commands into his psyche? Why did they have torture him, electroshock his brain? 
> 
> Because he was an inherently good man, and that did not serve their purposes. He needed to be radically altered from his natural state.
> 
> That's my theory, and I'm sticking to it for this story.
> 
> I also seriously do not believe that Sam and Bucky were just bros who liked each other and teased each other in the film. They were allies because Steve forced them to be, but Sam had a very healthy skepticism about just how safe this guy was. After all, the only aspect he'd ever seen of Bucky was the Winter Soldier. I really think that Sam's skepticism is very important - he's looking to keep himself and Steve alive, in a situation where "parachute, what parachute?" Rogers could be flat out stupid. I think that ultimately, they can be friends, and could spend Saturday nights watching Netflix together, making fun of the latest harebrained shit Steve got up to that day/week/hour, but that's a point they have to earn. And yeah, as I've typed this, I've just had this whole new scene play out in my head with the pair of them. Ugh, I am never going to be ready for my trip - I keep detouring back to this instead of doing laundry, dishes, and cleaning the damned litterbox! :)

“There are other codes.”

T’Challa’s statement was met by a shocked, desperate silence. He looked around the room at the assembled members of Steve Rogers’s team, and slowly released his breath. He wasn’t sure why he’d somehow expected violence, an outcry. Instead, there was a hush, an indrawn breath, waiting. 

He did not look at Barnes’s face immediately, instead cataloguing the others.

Steve Rogers looked like he might cry, that this might be the last straw that broke Captain America. After everything they’d been through, to learn that Hydra had left additional triggers … it was too much. Then there was a subtle change in his jaw, a tightening, a shoring up, and his expression mutated to grim determination. T’Challa was glad he called this man friend, because he knew he could be a formidable enemy. God help any survivors of Hydra. T’Challa felt a momentary pang, realizing how much his father would have enjoyed meeting the legendary Captain, and how they might have been friends, too. They’d shared that indomitable will, that resolve. A formidable adversary. An inviolable friend.

Clint Barton looked angry. He was a remarkably flexible man, apparently able to roll with almost anything that came his way. Even in the midst of battle, he’d been strangely open and friendly, yet willing to give the fight everything he had. But he was fiercely protective of those he called friends, and T’Challa realized he was angry on Barnes’s behalf. A good man to have in his corner, Barton. Someone T’Challa thought he might like to know better.

Wanda Maximoff brushed an actual tear away from her eyes impatiently. She had been diligently working on fine-tuning her control in the past few days, an activity T’Challa both applauded and feared. Even without total control, she had delivered a significant blow to him in the field at Leipzig, while not injuring him. But if she could increase her control to the point where she could sustain and move containment without mishap, then she could indeed prove useful in the field again. He knew she was working toward being able to participate in removing the triggers from Barnes’s mind, but he was skeptical of the practicality of such a plan.

Scott Lang tossed a sympathetic glance toward Barnes, looked worriedly at Steve Rogers, but eventually simply returned his attention to T’Challa, waiting for more information. He was a supremely pragmatic man, clearly missing his daughter, but willing to see what happened next. He had a wry sense of humor and a self-deprecating manner. T’Challa had learned recently that the man had technical qualifications that might be useful, and planned to talk with him about bringing him on to one or two of the projects he was assembling teams for.

Sam Wilson pursed his lips and frowned, his gaze flicking between Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes. Like Barton, he looked angry. A few days ago, T’Challa would have wondered if his anger was directed at Barnes, but they’d finally worked out what was bothering them, and had started to form a tentative friendship. Like Barton, Wilson was angry on Barnes’s and Rogers’s behalf. More Rogers than Barnes, he suspected – their truce was still new and fragile. But Wilson’s loyalty to Rogers was impenetrable.

And then there was James Barnes. He was looking down at his hand, worrying the cuticle on his right thumb, worrying at it with his index finger.

“How many?” he asked in a voice as faint as breath.

“In addition to the compliance trigger we already know about, there is a trigger to stop you – make you pass out. There is a trigger to initiate a systemic shutdown – to kill you slowly and painfully. There is a trigger to instigate rage. There is a trigger to inspire fear. There is a self-destruct trigger. There may be more. My translator begged to be given a break. The book details not only the triggers, but how they were implanted. How compliance was taught, how each command was tested, at your expense.”

“If the book shows how Buck was … was trained,” Rogers started, “then it proves that he wasn’t acting of his own volition.”

“Yes. I plan to provide a redacted version of the translation to the Accords panel, to the US Secretary of Defense.”

“Redacted,” Wilson repeated thoughtfully.

“I have no plans to share the codes with anyone. We still do not know who might be actively working for Hydra. And I do not think it is wise to put such control in the hands of a stranger, no matter who they might be.”

“I want to see,” Rogers announced, his voice hard, his words clipped.

“Steve –“ Wilson warned.

Rogers shook his head. “I want to see what they did. I need to understand. I need to know so I … so I can pay them back in kind.”

“I don’t want you to see,” Barnes said, lifting his head up to stare up at the ceiling.

“Buck –“

Barnes lowered his gaze again, and turned a face drawn wretched and pained on Rogers. “I don’t want you to see how weak I was. How I gave in. Gave up. If I’d been stronger, if I’d fought back more, they –“

At the growing anguish on Rogers’s face, Barnes turned away again, shuttered his emotions and blanked his expression.

His efforts to make himself invisible among the very people he should be able to trust infuriated T’Challa. Too much had been stolen already. He needed to speak, to put into perspective what really happened. “No. There is no way _anyone_ could have been stronger. No way you or anyone else could have fought back more. Sergeant Barnes, you were not weak. You showed greater strength than I have ever seen. I am … I am _humbled_ by the strength you displayed. My translator begged for a break because she could not bear to read any more of what Hydra did to you. That such things were even contemplated is impossible to fathom. That they did those things to _you_ … no. That you _survived_ … You were _never_ weak. They were just too evil for a good man to stand up to them alone.”

The ravaged face that turned and lifted toward him was heartbreaking. T’Challa had always had a healthy ego, confident in his abilities, loved and well-treated. He always strived to be more, always gave things his best, and his best was very good indeed. He had never experienced the kind of soul destroying treatment that James Buchanan Barnes suffered at the hands of Hydra. For seventy years. He felt the heat in his own blood rise. Captain Rogers wanted to make them suffer in kind. T’Challa agreed.

“Buck … the serum enhances what’s inside a man,” Rogers was saying, and Barnes’s attention was immediately wrested away and drawn to Rogers. “The way Professor Erskine explained it, good becomes great, and bad becomes evil. What we saw in the Red Skull – that was evil to the nth degree. Those other winter solders, the kill squad – they became more of what they’d been. But you …”

“They had to twist you, reverse you, with the most horrific torture, in order to change you from what you were. A good man,” T’Challa said softly.

“Not a good man,” Barnes replied, shaking his head. “No, I’m not –“

“Pretty sure the King just showed you’re wrong about that, Barnes. I know we didn’t get off on the right foot to start, but that’s because I saw what Hydra intended me to see. Now I’m getting to know you – now I’m getting to see the man that Steve’s been looking for – T’Challa’s right. They had to do all of that because you _are_ a good man at heart – but you weren’t any good to them with the serum in you if you were a good man.”

“Hydra twists things. Makes things unnatural,” Wanda said softly, staring at the red glow around her fingers. “They are right, Bucky. You are not responsible for what was done to you. And you are not responsible for what you did when they used you. You did not _choose_ to be altered by Hydra. We just need to prove that to the world.”

“Wanda –“ 

“No. I made a choice. It was a bad choice, but it was mine. You did not choose what was done. You fought it. We have the record. We will prove your innocence.”

“Hey, when Nat gets back, maybe she can help with the translation – she’s got a stronger stomach than any of us, I think,” Barton suggested.

“No.” T’Challa’s voice cut across the rising chatter and the room fell silent.

“No?” Barton challenged with a mulish expression and an arched eyebrow.

“No. This translation must be above reproach. Miss Romanoff is compromised. I compromised her when I reported her actions to Secretary Ross.”

“Yeah, thanks for that,” Barton said sourly, settling back in his chair.

“He didn’t know, Clint,” Rogers admonished softly. “He thought Buck had …”

“I didn’t do that, but I did a lot of other things. I don’t think anyone’s going to believe it wasn’t me. It was my hand, my face – any surviving surveillance footage is going to bear that out. And the people I killed … they’re not going to forgive so easily.”

“Perhaps. But that will not stop us,” T’Challa agreed.

“Why? Why are you doing this? I’m a danger to you, to everyone. I’m not worth all the effort everyone is putting into this. I’m not worth a translator getting sick to her stomach reading Hydra filth. I’m not worth putting your whole country in the crosshairs of the Accords panel. I’m not worth Clint and Scott missing their kids, Sam from his family, his friends – I’m not worth Steve being _exiled_ from the country he _died_ to protect – “

“Buck, you know that’s not true. You’re worth it. You’re worth _everything_ to me –“

“But why?” Barnes demanded, rising out of his chair so he was looking down at Rogers. “Why? Because you remember a guy from your past? I look like your old friend, but I’m not him, Steve. I’m … something else. I may never be him again – I can’t go back to being that idiot who loved to dance and kissed every eligible dame he could in Brooklyn so no one would know – I just … I just can’t,” he finished, shaking his head in frustration. “Look, thank you. Thank you, _everyone_. I can’t put things back the way they were, but you don’t have to keep giving things up for me. _I’m not worth it_.”

Then he pushed past Rogers as he leapt up from his chair, shoved through the door, and disappeared into the hallway beyond, leaving the rest of them gaping in his wake.

“I think this is your cue to go after him, Cap,” Scott Lang was the first to speak. “We’ll do what we can, but you’re the one person who can prove to him that he’s worth it.”

Rogers glanced toward Lang and nodded, and then he was gone.

“Is it me, or did those two finally almost admit how they feel about each other?” Lang asked into the vacuum.

Wilson turned toward him, gesticulating excitedly. “Thank you! I’ve been trying to find some way to ask Steve, but how do you ask a 1940s national icon if he’s gay?”

“Huh. Nat’s gonna be pissed. She’s been trying to set him up for the past two-three years. She is not going to be happy she guessed wrong,” Barton said, shaking his head and settling back comfortably in his seat.

“I think it’s cute,” Miss Maximoff added with a sweet smile. Then she swiveled in her chair to face T’Challa and the other three men. “We have to make sure they have the chance to be together. You are having the book translated. Do your people have any ideas on how the codes can be removed? I know I talk about removing them, but I know this is something I could not do alone.”

T’Challa was relieved to hear her say that, but truth was he didn’t have any solutions to offer. But perhaps working together, his people and Miss Maximoff – Wanda – could come up with a plan.

“Accompany me, Miss Maximoff,” he suggested, walking toward her and holding out his crooked arm. “There are some people I would like you to meet, to discuss possibilities. Gentlemen,” he acknowledged, and escorted Wanda from the room.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, really enjoying people's speculation and comments. Obviously, there are varying intepretations that can be made based on the performances. What's yours?


	11. Rededication

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve tries to find Bucky to talk some sense into him. He finds him.
> 
> Question: What happens when Steve does finally talk to Bucky?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm trying to wind down after the first day of Philly Wizard World, and this happened. Some of it I'd written before and just needed to incorporate it into the chapter, but most of this just flowed. Hope it makes as much sense in the morning as it does to me right now.

Bucky wasn’t in the first place Steve looked. Nor the second. He’d checked ten different locations before he stumbled on him in the overlook of the falls that cascaded down from a mountain stream into the lagoons and lakes far below. 

The balcony jutted out over the falls, the floor transparent, curving upward into the expansive clear walls, capped by a ceiling as clear as the floor and walls, all without seams, without joins, a continuous bubble. It was like they were floating in air, suspended like a water droplet poised to fall. T’Challa had explained that this was another location where they’d used the glass/vibranium fusion to create an impossible structure. It was a breaktaking panoramic view of the mountain, the falls, the jungle surrounding everything, the rocky outcroppings studding the wall behind the falls, and the roiling pool into which the falls poured. A short distance away, the waters settled into a glassy stillness, but right below the falls, the waters churned, boiling with the force of the falling water.

Outside, the jungle called, animals alien to his experience in a landscape that might have been on the moon for all its lack of familiarity. He knew the air would be humid with the moisture from the falls, the rich greenery of the jungle, warm and thick with life. 

As far from a snow-covered mountain peak and a train hurtling down the tracks as you could get, but Steve could not quell the sense of déjà vu, the sense that history was about to repeat itself.

He had to take the chance to change history, set a new course into the future.

He had the feeling that this was a tipping point, a moment in which his life could change or shatter.

As he stared at the broad expanse of Bucky’s back, the left shoulder terminating suddenly where the cybernetic arm had been blasted off by Tony’s arc reactor, he realized that he had nothing to lose and everything to gain. A moment of courage could change both their futures.

“Lot steeper than the Cyclone,” he said into the silent space, as reverent to nature as it was to the science that created it.

“That still there? Coney Island, the Cyclone, Rockaway Beach?” Bucky asked without turning around, his right hand still splayed against the glass, his nose practically touching as he stared out across the majesty of the falls. Steve could see a faint fogging of the glass where Bucky’s breath collected there.

“All of it. Hurricane Sandy did a number on Rockaway, but they’ve rebuilt. New York took some big hits with terrorist attacks and then a Hurricane that ripped her apart. Brooklyn always endures, though. Like us.”

“Endure,” he huffed a laugh. “Yeah, we endure, Steve. Maybe past our time, y’know?”

“No.”

That answer seemed to surprise Bucky, because he half-turned toward Steve, his brows drawn together.

“No?”

“No. Not past our time. This is our time. We survived, you and me. Yeah, there’s been some shit. Some pretty fucking horrible shit. I … I’m sorry I couldn’t hold on, couldn’t keep you from falling. I’m sorry I didn’t come back for you –“

Bucky turned fully toward Steve, a shadow in front of the brilliant display of the falls. The sight drove the breath out of Steve. Bucky shook his head, his hands fisting at his sides. “You could’n’a known. Nobody coulda survived that fall. You didn’t know what Zola’d done to me. I didn’t know.”

As if by an inexorable pull, Steve took a step forward. “Shoulda looked deeper. Shoulda gone back.”

“Instead, you took down Red Skull and crashed your fucking plane,” Bucky observed, taking a step toward Steve. “He played that for me, you know. The recording of you talking to Peggy. Some Hydra mole smuggled it out, I guess. Played it again and again.” He dropped into an uncanny mimic of Zola’s voice, “Your precious captain is not coming for your, Sergeant Barnes. You are forgotten, tossed aside. Your only hope is to comply.” He snorted bitterly. “Fucking Zola.”

Another step closer by Steve. “He was responsible for Project Insight. I destroyed him. I only wish he’d been alive so I coulda ripped his spine out and shoved it down his throat.”

“I would pay to see that,” Bucky shook his head, another step forward. “Fucking Hydra fuck. Him and Fenhoff and all their goddamned scientists and mumbo-jumbo artists. Messing with my head, cutting away parts of me – parts of my brain, my fucking arm, my chest … I still don’t understand why they didn’t just kill me. It woulda been a mercy.”

“Hydra doesn’t know mercy. And we haven’t shown them any. I’ll burn them to the ground for what they did to you. I promise you this, Buck.” Steve took another step, then stood his ground, the intensity of his gaze burning.

Bucky paused as well, feet apart, shoulders down and loose, hands curled at his sides. He lifted his chin and challenged Steve from where he stood. “And how much of your soul is that gonna cost you, Steve? You never were the guy to hate somebody. You stood up, yeah, but because it was the right thing to do, not because you hated anybody.”

“Never had reason to hate anybody before. I got reason now.”

“I’m not worth it, Steve. I’m not worth everything your friends are going through. Y’gotta let me go, Steve. They’ll be coming for me. It’s better for everyone if I just surrender myself.”

“No. No, it’s not better for everyone. It’s not better for me. Buck, it’s not. You don’t know –“ Steve cut himself off with an angry shake of his head.

“Don’t know what?” Bucky prodded gently, his hand lifting to touch Steve’s elbow, but falling back to his side. 

Steve tightened his jaw, forcing himself to look at Bucky. His face was guarded, but there was something there, something poised and waiting. Somehow they’d taken a couple more steps toward each other, and were now within arm’s length of each other.

“Don’t know _what_ , Steve?” Bucky asked, a low note of urgency in his voice.

“Don’t know how much I missed you. How much I needed you,” Steve answered, his voice barely a whisper.

“Y’got friends, Steve. Folks who care about you, got your back. Would risk it all for you. Y’don’t need me.”

“I always need you. I’ve always needed you,” Steve replied, his voice raw and shredded.

“Steve, I … I don’t know what you mean. I … what _do_ you mean?” Bucky asked in a deeper, huskier register, taking another step so he was just inches away. “What do you _want_ , Steve?” he pressed, his voice so faint even Steve’s enhanced hearing had to strain.

Steve swallowed thickly, recognizing this as the moment, the point at which the future diverged. The path in the wood. He looked into Bucky’s eyes, shocked at the naked honesty there, the curiosity, the … desire? Maybe. Maybe not. Maybe this was the dumbest thing he’d ever done, maybe it was the most destructive. But he could not allow Bucky to think himself worthless when he meant _everything_ , everything to Steve.

“I want you,” he said softly, his voice barely a puff of air on Bucky’s cheek.

“Yeah?” Bucky challenged, and Steve couldn’t be sure if the gleam in Bucky’s eyes was him spoiling for a fight – Bucky always enjoyed a big of boxing, various other fighting styles – or actually interested in Steve _that_ way. “What about Blondie?”

Something twisted in Steve’s chest at the question, a chasm of loss and longing. “Sharon? That was a mistake. She’s Peggy’s grandniece, for God’s sake. We just … we just buried her. I thought it was something I should do, something I should want, but –“

“Peg would want you to get on with your life. You could do worse.”

“Yeah, maybe. But … nah, I’m not ready. It wasn’t fair to Sharon. And besides, I got you –“

“I want you to move on with your life, too, Steve. You can’t live your life on hold. You can’t stop living ‘cos’a me. Y’need to find yourself a nice girl, one who knows how t’throw a punch, ‘cos your sorry ass needs protecting, y’dumb punk. Settle down with someone who appreciates you and have a houseful of little Stevies so I can be a proper uncle.”

Steve thought about what he’d said to Tony after Ultron, about not being that guy anymore. And he realized why. Why he wasn’t the guy for the pretty wife and the white picket fence.

“What if that’s not what I want, Buck?”

“Well, what do you want, Steve?”

“I … I want you.”

“Yeah, y’said. Well, y’got me, but you can have more, y’know. I’m not gonna stand in the way of you getting’ hitched.”

“No. I. Want. You. Like, _want_.”

Time to take that leap of faith into the void. Like diving off the waterfall into the pool below, risking the current, the undertow, risking the rocks and predators. Risking it all.

“Want.”

“Yeah. ‘Ve always wanted you. Now … this future don’t stand in … our way. That is, if you want what I want. To be, um … together. Like, um, _together_.”

They were practically touching now, the warmth of their enhanced bodies heating up the air between them.

“And if I did?”

“Then I’d have to kiss you.”

“You’d have to.”

“It’s a law. I’d have to kiss you. Because Bucky Barnes needs a kiss. Many kisses. All the fucking kisses.”

“Well, then. Better get started, shouldn’t you?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, Steve,” Bucky replied with a nod and a smirk.

“Okay, then. I, uh –“

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I gotta do everything?” Bucky demanded, then curved his right hand around the nape of Steve’s neck and hauled him in, and crashed their mouths together in a bruising, inelegant, but eminently satisfying first kiss.

If Steve squeaked then sighed, it would remain a secret between them. Til the end of the line.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so enjoying everyone's comments and ponderings on the movie, the odd moments of disconnection, your ideas for what should happen, your questions on what happens next. I love this form of collaboration, and I really feel I have the most wonderful readers in the world.
> 
> Next chapter will happen when it happens. Wizard World is going to kick my ass, third weekend in a row of fannish excitement, but ALL THOSE PEOPLE. I really need to crawl into my hole and pull the hole after me, but I'm back to work on Monday, and it's not gonna be pretty. So patience, please, while I work out what happens after this chapter. :)


	12. Redistribution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Here's a short chapter in which I asked myself: What's next for Pepper Potts and Tony Stark? 
> 
> And just how would Pepper view the Accords?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter that opens some interesting questions, I think. I've got Team Cap to a place of equilibrium now, I think, so it's time to look a little closer at the remnants of Team Stark for a bit. There will be a lot more with Tony and Pepper, and the contents of Howard Stark's archives. I've got bits and pieces written, and I've been watching the first two Iron Man movies again today as I've been home sick after an incredible weekend at Wizard World, where my convention crud I've been suffering with for two months came roaring back to life full strength. 
> 
> Well, at least I got through the weekend. Met some amazing people, had some fabulous discussions. Stood in some really long-ass lines for ridiculous periods of time. Wizard World grossly overbooks their guests, and too many cutesy photo ops and autograph session presentations shot the schedule to hell, leaving anyone in sessions mid-afternoon and later having to stand in line for hours, and then get rushed through. No one should have to sign autographs for seven hours, no matter how kind they are. Got a couple of chuckles out of a couple of guests, fell deeper in love with one of them. Came home with lots of ideas and few brain cells still functioning. I literally fell asleep at the keyboard last night, then woke up this morning completely stuffed up and barely able to speak. But I needed to get this chapter out of my head and into circulation.

“Steve’s assets have been seized.”

“As they should be,” Tony sniffed from where he tinkered half-heartedly with one of dear old Dad’s old gadgets he’d found in the Archives.

“Really,” Pepper responded dubiously as she laid a file folder down on the work surface, then lowered herself elegantly onto the stool next to him.

Tony kept tinkering. He’d read Howard’s notes on the device, and kind of liked the idea of it, but its early trials had resulted in some nasty burns and unstoppable cascade effects. A number of fatalities. He liked to take his father’s failures out of mothballs and make them work. It was almost as much fun as figuring out the tech to make his ideas ahead of their time work. But, he digressed within his own mind. Pepper sat there, tantalizingly close, awaiting an answer. Probably a serious one. “He didn’t have to break an airport. I gave him a chance. Told him if he came in voluntarily, we could make nice, make it all go away. All he had to do was sign, for God’s sake. And Lang – he snapped the wing off a jet like it was made of spun glass. He must be hell on Tonka toys. Stepped right on a truck, threw another one that blew up … yeah, let Cap foot the bill a little. If he’d come quietly, none of that would have happened.”

“Okay, assuming that’s all valid –“ indignant, he squawked and she patted his arm reassuringly, and he kind of wanted to just roll around in that for a while, “I believe you believe it, Tony. I just find it hard to believe that Steve Rogers didn’t have a good reason for it.”

He just stared at her. Thanks, Pep. Nothing like kicking a man in the nuts while he’s down. Jesus, even Pepper agreed with Cap. Talk about feeling isolated. Talk about feeling cheated – getting Pepper back was half the reason he’d agreed to the fucking Accords in the first place. No Avengers. No Cap. No Pepper? Tony felt a cold knot tighten in his stomach. 

“That’s the point of the Accords, isn’t it? Good reason or not, we’re supposed to follow the rules.”

“Yes, and that’s where I have concerns. First of all, when have you _ever_ followed rules? Secondly, I’ve turned the Accords agreement over to Legal for review. Their preliminary findings are that the Accords are not enforceable.”

“They what?”

“Part of the premise of the Accords is that the Panel can send you anywhere they choose. You have no choice but to go.”

“Yeah, like good little soldiers –“

“But you’re not an army. You’re not a branch of any nation’s armed forces. You’re individual _volunteers_. Legal thinks that not allowing you any choice on whether or not you accept a mission is enslavement. And that is illegal in your country of origin, and it is a practice specifically prohibited by the UN itself. To quote someone occasionally wise, it’s ‘tantamount to indentured servitude or prostitution, depending on what state you’re in’.”

“Huh.”

“Further, the Accords don’t take into account the wishes of the host nation – the country where the action may take place. The host country doesn’t have a seat on the panel. And there doesn’t appear to be a mechanism for them to have a voice.”

“And I repeat, huh.”

“I’m sure they’ll find more, that’s from just a cursory review of the first chapter or two.”

“Cursory, huh?”

“Yes, cursory. The Accords are clearly designed to make use of you, and all the enhanced, but not to protect you. For them to be effective, there needs to respect and full consent in place all around. There are gaps. Gaps we can exploit.”

“What if I don’t want the gaps, hmm? What if I like it this way?”

“Well, then. You’re either an even bigger fool than I ever expected, or I demand to have my Tony back, Loki.”

“You do care.”

“I never said I didn’t care, Tony. I care too much, perhaps. I needed a break. Admittedly, it was terrible timing. I had no idea you were hurting this badly. And that’s the problem.”

“I’m not hurting.”

“You spent six hundred and eleven millions dollars on a machine to process your pain.”

“I spent that on important research into the workings of the human mind.”

“Your speech to MIT said otherwise. Tony, it’s another form of self-medicating. Booze, drugs, sex, and technology. You still haven’t dealt with everything, or anything – the Chitauri, Ultron, your parents’ deaths –“

“I tried to deal with them. Cap stopped me.”

“Killing James Barnes isn’t the answer, Tony.”

“It’s good enough for me.”

“No. No, it isn’t. It’s terrible for you. You’re angry – I get that. I understand that. You’re hurt. You want someone punished. But James Barnes was the weapon. In addition to Legal, I’ve put a team of cryptographers and translators on the Hydra/SHIELD data dump. If Zemo could find something that precise, something targeted at you specifically, who knows what else is In there?”

“I have Friday running a subroutine –“

“And that’s good. There is a massive amount of data. Two teams.”

“Is this a competition Man vs. machine?”

“Would that make you feel better?”

“Friday gets there first, I get … a kiss.”

“You’re likely to get that anyway.”

“Are you saying I’m irresistible? You are, aren’t you.”

“Let’s just say I have a vested interest in your success or failure. And not facing up to your pain, not dealing with it – you’re destined for failure.”

“I’m handling it.”

“No. You’re really not. So if my team gets there first, you agree to enter therapy. Work with someone who can help you with a sense of scale, who can help you form healthy coping mechanisms. Who can help you understand when the rails are disappearing before you go off them. Start out by cataloging what’s happened so you can let it go.”

“I’m gonna win, you know.”

“I have some of the best linguistic experts in the world working on it. Some of the best cryptoanalysts. It’s not a lock, Tony.”

“I’m motivated.”

“Motivate this. You get therapy, you get real help … I’ll move back home.”

“Why don’t I just forfeit? Your things are exactly where you left them –“

“It doesn’t work that way, Tony. And besides, we need the information. We need to have a better idea of what Hydra did. What else they may have manipulated, who else might be compromised. This should have happened in the wake of the helicarriers falling, but everyone was too busy taking potshots at Nat, and trying to blame each other for such a massive screw-up.”

“So you’re proposing we take on the translation and analysis the intelligence community should have taken on.”

“Yes. Yes I am. And we should pool resources. No holding secrets. We help each other achieve success.”

“And what do we do with all this data mining and contextualization?”

“Translation as well. We take it to the people.”

“Excuse you?”

“We follow Nat’s lead. We take the translations, the conclusions, the hypotheses, and we put them on the net. With some context, of course. We add them to the public record.”

“Hmm.”

“And in the meantime, Legal keeps working on the Accords to figure out how we can revise them so we can all live with them. Because, Tony, it’s bad enough when our friends end up inmates at the most secure prison on Earth. I couldn’t take it if that’s where you end up.”

“I’m not gonna end up there.”

Pepper leveled him with a disbelieving gaze. “Tony. Have you met you?”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rarely get angry at comments. Most of the time, when a comment is critical, I read it a few times, and I often find something in the comment that helps me. So I really do appreciate comments, and I know that a lot of people are hesitant to leave critical comments because so many writers are unwilling to accept criticism. I do draw the line at comments that tell me I have no right to write my story my way. It happened early on with On the Air, and I ultimately had to suggest to the two readers who kept insisting Steve had no right to live his life his way (in deference to Bucky), that they should probably just stop reading the story, because what they were pushing for was offensive to me. The same goes for the commenter who called this story a waste because I didn't interpret events the same way they did. 
> 
> You're welcome to disagree with me, and I am not required to agree with you. Each of us has the right to our own interpretations, our own spin, our own takes. This is mine. Don't like my interpretation? Don't read it. Write your own if that's what you want. That's what fan fiction is for, after all - for each of us to create our own stories, our own worlds. :)


	13. Redirection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I just can't quit this.
> 
> How has Pepper dealt with all the things have happened while we haven't seen her? She was away when the events of Ultron occurred. She came home to find her home damaged, Bruce gone to places unknown, Howard's old archive facility being turned into an Avengers training center, her friendly neighborhood AI gone, and Tony turning over a new leaf?
> 
> What does she see when she looks at Vision? 
> 
> What does Vision remember of Jarvis?
> 
> And what to do about Tony?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seriously, I'm supposed to be working on my Stucky Big Bang story, but this won't leave me alone. It probably doesn't help that I've been watching the MCU in order this week while trying to write. Taking a few minutes during my lunch break to share this - and yes, I take lunch late in the day because I forget.
> 
> There's more coming. Tony is about to have a revelation, I think. The bottom he needs to reach in order to start healing. And kinda go all Scooby gang, too. I kind of like what I've got percolating to come next for the House of Stark.

“Miss Potts, may I be of assistance?”

“Yes, Jarvis, I’m looking for To–“ Pepper cut herself off as she turned toward the voice and found herself looking at the purple metallic face of Vision. A wave of disappointment moved through her, making its way to her face before she could fully contain it. 

She hadn’t been around the synthetic being much since he’d been created in Tony’s lab during the Ultron crisis. She’d been at a conference in Prague at the time, went to bed with a clear conscience, only to wake up to find out that her boyfriend – lover – they never really did define what they were to each other, more’s the pity – but he’d managed to create a murderbot hell-bent on taking over the world, and thanks to the turmoil – and disintegrating city – over Sokovia, air travel throughout Europe had been grounded for fear of aircraft to building collisions.

It had been a very stressful day, especially when she realized that Jarvis was offline and Tony hadn’t been answering his phone.

It had been even more stressful, once flights started moving, to come home to the tower to find that it had brand new holes in it, Tony’s favorite lab a smoking pile of rubble, the AI she called friend missing, and Maria Hill gone from her post, apparently to assist Nick Fury in evacuating the tenuously floating city before it crashed to the earth and started a new ice age.

At least Happy was there to greet her, his hangdog face speaking volumes of patience, Job, and what have we gotten ourselves into.

In the days that followed, she learned that Bruce was gone, his whereabouts unknown. She’d always wondered how he could maintain his calm when his companion – his partner in crime – was the frenetic, overcaffeinated, uncontainable dervish that was Tony.

Howard’s old archive facility was retrofitted as a new Avengers compound, complete with living quarters, tactical command, enhanced workout areas, the whole nine yards. And Tony claimed to be coming home. For good.

It seemed like it might be, for a few minutes, at least. Until Pepper realized that the whole disaster grew out of suits.

Lots and lots of suits.

Autonomous suits. Suits that followed Tony around and could protect him when he stepped out of them. Just … suits that weren’t supposed to exist. Suits he’d promised her wouldn’t exist.

She’d taken it for as long as she could, but she’d finally reached the breaking point.

She would always have to share her life with suits, no matter what Tony promised.

It wasn’t something she could simply accept. She needed to figure out if what she felt for Tony, what she’d always felt for Tony, outweighed her concern and her distrust of the suits.

She could operate the suits. Extremis might be relatively under control in her body, but it was still there. Still active. The suit could be an effective containment unit.

But Tony had promised.

And then he’d broken his promise.

He kept breaking his promises.

And yet. Here she was.

She’d always wondered how someone as intelligent, as alive as Tony Stark could allow himself to fall victim to so many addictions. Although in Tony’s case it wasn’t so much fall victim as wholeheartedly embrace.

And then she looked at herself, her inability to walk away from Anthony Edward Stark.

And she understood, on a visceral level, the draw, the pull, the absolutely ironclad link, of something or someone you just cannot break away from. 

She asked herself every day how this became her life, and remembered why.

She was looking for Tony to discuss Legal’s recommendations on any contact with Secretary Ross. As in, avoid it until Legal completed their review. It was always Tony. It had only ever been Tony.

Vision tilted his head to one side and considered her in silence, waiting for her to finish her thoughts, and she blinked. Only seconds had passed, but she’d amassed a life of recriminations and frustrations and joys in those seconds. Life passing before her eyes?

“You mourn him.” Jarvis’s voice – rather Vision’s now – sounded both surprised and curious.

“I … Yes. Jarvis was a big part of my life for a very long time. He was … you are … is there anything left of him inside you?”

Vision considered the question in silence for a moment, then nodded slowly. “Memories, certainly. The sense of movement and many thousands of component parts functioning in perfect synchronicity. Everything he ran and controlled for Mr. Stark, for you. Awareness. Jarvis was most definitely sentient. Affection. He had evolved, Miss Potts. And he was very fond of you. You brought stability, direction to Mr. Stark’s life. More than he could alone. Together, you had a remarkable partnership.”

“Yes. But you speak of him as though he is –“

“Dead? No. He is a part of me. A subroutine, if you will. He … affects me. I am loyal to Mr. Stark because Jarvis has always been loyal to Mr. Stark. It is not a question – I can no more be disloyal to him than I could allow him to be harmed. I am loyal to you in the same manner. But I am not simply an ambulatory version of Jarvis.”

“You know who Jarvis was to Tony, don’t you? The human Jarvis.”

“Howard Stark’s butler, assistant, and dare I say it, best friend. And –“

“The strongest father figure Tony had growing up. Edwin Jarvis looked after Tony, provided guidance. Sometimes discipline. Always protection. I need you to be that Jarvis, Vision.”

“Miss Potts, I –“

“He’s in a fragile state, Vision. He needs someone to look after him. I need someone to look after him, someone who will alert me if he needs help. Monitor his anxiety levels, his alcohol consumption, his sleeping patterns –“

“I do not have the ability to run such diagnostics on Mr. Stark in this body, Miss Potts –“

“Work with Friday. She has all of Jarvis’s abilities, if not his breadth of knowledge and awareness of Tony. I need to know if he’s unraveling. I can’t stay here all the time, there’s too much to do. To run the company, and to clean up this mess. I will clean it up, Jarvis.”

“The Accords, you mean? They are legally binding, a logical extension of overreach by enhanced individuals –“

“They go too far, and not far enough. There is a way to fix this. I’m good at fixing things. But to do that, I need to make sure Tony is doing okay. And I need to be careful he doesn’t start using me as a crutch. But I need to know when he’s in distress, when he needs help. Can you do that for me, Vision?”

Vision frowned and inclined his head solemnly. “Caring for Mr. Stark. That was part of Jarvis’s mission. It was his base programming before all else. I realize now that I have been remiss in not following through on that imperative. I have allowed him to reach far beyond comfortable operating parameters. I thought myself without purpose, without meaning in this world with the Avengers disbanded. But this I can do. I will do my best to ensure his continued safety and sanity.”

“You’ll succeed. This falls into not allowing him to be harmed. Mr. Stark’s greatest threat is himself. Help me to protect him from that.”

“As you wish, Miss Potts. And may I say thank you for reminding me of my greater purpose.”

“You may, so long as you accept my thanks in return,” she smiled sweetly at him. “Friday, did you hear all that?”

“Right with you, Lady Boss,” Friday’s cheeky voice replied. 

“Good. Both of you – contact me if anything seems off. Any time, night or day, contact me. I’d rather deal with false alarms than have to pick him up out of the rubble.”

“Rubble?”

“When he blows up the compound.”

“I see. Yes. I will keep you on … speed dial?”

“Now you’re getting the picture, Vision. Thank you.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the comments, encouragement, ideas, corrections, questions are the best possible gift I could hope to receive. The fact that so many of you keep giving is inspiring. I hope you continue to enjoy my ponderings, and stick with me. I really don't know how far this will go, but as long as there are questions to be asked, and answers that I can figure out, I intend to continue on this ride. 
> 
> Ooh, and watch for the first chapter of my 2016 Stucky Big Bang story to be posted soon. It's a modern day AU fake boyfriend/relationship story - totally my kryptonite. So excited to be writing it.
> 
> Love you all!


	14. Reparations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One of the biggest things that bothered me about CACW was the choice of Thaddeus Ross as the person who delivers the ultimatum about the Accords to the Avengers, and Tony Stark just _took it_. This is the man who tricked Bruce Banner into developing the serum that ended up combining with gamma exposure to turn him into the Hulk. And yes, I went back and re-watched The Incredible Hulk. Bruce was working on a serum for gamma resistance, and exposed himself. In The Avengers, Nick Fury also says that Bruce was working on a super soldier serum. Instead of resistance, it would appear that the serum instead stores gamma radiation in Bruce's brain, which in turn keeps the Other Guy lurking in the background.
> 
> Anyway, the fact that Tony doesn't challenge Ross in any way, doesn't throw in his face what he's personally done, is, to me, an indicator of just how broken Tony is at the beginning of CACW. The last time we saw these two together in the tag from TIH, he's in control. In CACW, he's curled in on himself, he's drowning. Here's the pushback I wanted to see ... 
> 
> And my next question? What would Pepper's reaction to Ross be?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's so interesting about working on this story for me is the fact that the more questions I ask, the more question I answer, more more questions I discover. I may have to set myself a limit at some point - I don't really want to write a conclusion to the MCU after all. But this is seriously fun in the meantime. Hope you're still enjoying the ride with me.

“Tony, you promised me you would keep them under control.”

“They are under control. Have you heard any complaints about unruly behavior? Public drunkenness? Lewd activities or anything otherwise disturbing of ye olde peace?”

“You know what I mean.”

“They’re out of your jurisdiction. They’re sure as hell out of mine.”

“Wakanda is a signatory to the Accords.”

“No extradition treaties in place, though, am I right? Generations of isolationism has its advantages when you don’t want to share.”

Ross sneered at Tony and turned away. “Heard anything from Banner?”

“No, and I doubt I ever will. Pretty sure he wouldn’t be in agreement with answering to government oversight, especially where _you’re_ a member of the government.”

“He’s a walking timebomb and you know it. He shouldn’t be out of custody –“

“Guatemala.”

“What?”

“That’s where you first tried to corner Banner. He was doing just fine – not a single sign of the Other Guy for five months. Until your team showed up. And they did a lot of damage on a civilian city, in a country where you had no permission to be. You didn’t even pay your respects to the government on your way out. And you left without even trying to clean up the mess you’d created.”

“Watch it, Stark –“

“How about Culver University.”

“What?”

“No? Don’t remember ripping apart a state-funded university and putting several thousand civilian students – many of them underage – and faculty at risk? Including your own daughter. And again, leaving it much to worse for wear, no apologies, no efforts to clean up, not even a note with your insurance information. Bad form, General.”

“I’m the fucking Secretary of State of the United States of America, Stark. You might want to show some respect.”

“No? Then how about Harlem?”

“What do they have to do with anything – “

“Pot meet kettle? Ironic, you being the one to try to rein in the enhanced, considering your previous role in creating them. Creating the Abomination, the worst of them all. Do the other 116 countries who signed the Accords know about your history with the enhanced? Does Ellis?”

“That’s immaterial. That’s in the past.”

“It’s really quite material. Because I have to wonder, in drafting the Accords, just how you’re going to work your way into a permanent position on the Panel. How you’re going to put yourself in charge of the world’s enhanced.”

“That’s a serious accusation, Stark.”

“You haven’t done anything to prove me wrong.”

“Banner is too dangerous to be left free to wander the world.”

“He was doing pretty well before Fury recruited him. His control was building, becoming more reliable until –“

“Until the Maximoff girl happened. Yes, another case of the Stark Foundation applying mass amounts of money to heal a broken city.”

“At least we tried to make reparations. And Wanda was the subject of illegal human experiments, for Christ sake. Von Struyker fucked with that kid’s head in a big way. She’s spent every day since then trying to make amends. She’s been trying to learn control, to learn how to turn her abilities to benefit people, the world. Every day, her control becomes more precise. Your Abomination left Harlem in pieces, and there was never any restitution paid to the residents, the property owners, the shop owners. Not even the thugs and the racketeers saw a single dime. Harlem was left to itself to stitch itself back together. And as I recall, Culver had to sweet talk every last alumni to get the funding to repair the place after your little party there. Guatemala just got poorer, nobody got any help.”

“What’s your point, Stark? And there better fucking be one –“

“Gentlemen,” Pepper greeted, breezing into the conference room with a deliberate cadence to her high-heeled steps.

“Pep – I didn’t realize you were still here –“ Tony greeted, practically flinching at the sight of her.

“Ms. Potts. We were in the middle of a discussion –“ Secretary Ross began, effectively negating her presence with a dismissive wave.

“Yes, I am aware. I am also aware that Mr. Stark’s legal team has issued an advisory that he is not to have any private conversations with any persons or entities associated with or responsible for the Sokovia Accords without a member of said legal team present,” Pepper informed him in cool, clipped tones.

“Ms. Potts, I really don’t think you should be involving yourself in politics –“

“Secretary Ross, I really don’t think you should be infringing on Mr. Stark’s civil or legal rights. Or is that not something you consider important? I know that President Ellis would argue that it’s a tenet of his administration. What is important to you, Secretary?” She held up her phone, showing the number she had on speed dial. The phone screen said “Stark Legal,” but the call had not yet gone through. “I can have counsel on the line immediately. If you’d like to discuss further your infringement of Mr. Stark’s civil and legal rights, on the premises of Stark Industries property, of which Mr. Stark is majority stockholder. This could have ramifications not only in the political realm, but in the financial markets. Potentially destabilizing markets worldwide. I really don’t think that’s a cascade effect that you want to be responsible for, do you?”

Ross stood staring dumbfounded at the sweet countenance of Virginia “Pepper” Potts, CEO of the global conglomerate Stark Industries International, and chairperson of both the humanitarian organization, the Stark Foundation, and the tech funding organization, the September Foundation. She managed to stare him down without a single Extremis flare in her eyes, but the triumphant quirk of her lips when he sighed and nodded sourly could be forgiven.

Tony seriously wanted to kiss the living daylights out of that fuck you smile of hers.

“Excellent. I think you’ll agree, that will be all for today. Happy will escort you off the premises – we wouldn’t want you to encounter any of the enhanced who have signed your Accords and who live in peace here at the Avengers compound. Should you wish to speak with Mr. Stark again, please be sure to call my office, and we’ll arrange a suitable time and place for such a conversation, with the appropriate legal counsel in attendance.” She extended her well-manicured hand to him, and smiled as she said, “Good day, Secretary.”

He took her hand warily, but Tony could see from where he stood she put a little sugar into the handshake, as a subtle orange glow shimmered under the skin, then faded as soon as she released his hand, leaving him frowning in confusion.

“Happy?” she called over Happy Hogan, who smiled his Cheshire Cat grin at Secretary Ross, and escorted him out of the conference room and to his transport. Ross paused long enough to share a venomous glare at both Tony and Pepper, and Tony felt his protective instincts kick in, only to have them emasculated as soon as Pepper rounded on him.

“Are you a complete moron?” she demanded of him as soon as she knew Ross was off the floor.

“Pretty sure I’m not. No, my IQ, my multiple doctorates, more patents than Einstein, Gates, and, yeah, all of Silicon Valley combined … yeah, no. Not a moron.”

“Then stop acting like one. That man doesn’t have your best interests at heart, nor any other enhanced human on the planet.”

“I know. Before you walked in, I was reminding him of his track record, both in creating enhanced individuals, and in using them. And in never cleaning up his messes.”

“Yes, well, I don’t want you talking with him without Legal until we figure out this mess. But that’s a good point about his past actions. It can certainly paint a very different picture of him from the protector of the earth he’s trying to sell himself as. Unfortunately, you don’t run for Secretary of State. And I’m not sure how much influence you’d have over President Ellis right now, considering all that’s happened.”

“You really believe the Accords were the wrong idea.”

“I really do, Tony. I know you thought it was the best option, and from the perspective of people who are not enhanced, it probably looked that way to them, too. But in a way, it’s no different from male Senate Republicans trying to legislate female reproductive laws. It’s just fucking stupid, because they don’t understand shit about what they’re trying to do, and what’s worse, they’re afraid of the people they’re trying to legislate.”

“Wow, somebody had their Wheaties this morning.”

“I don’t eat that shit. Too many empty calories. But you know what I mean.” She huffed out a frustrated breath, and then shrugged ruefully. “Sorry. It just gets me so mad to see smug , stupid people think they understand and all they do is make everything 10,000 times worse.”

“I get that. I feel that way about bad tech. So, point of commonality for us there. We both can’t tolerate dilettantes and posers.”

“And bad politicians. How’s Friday’s translations going?”

“How about we discuss that over lunch? Hmm? We haven’t sat down and had a quiet meal together in … geeze, help me out here, how long?”

“Quiet? Probably close to a year now. You didn’t answer my question. My team has unearthed some disturbing information. There really was a Hydra mole in SHIELD around the time Howard and Maria were killed. In fact, there were several.”

“Names?”

“One you’ll recognize. We both knew him.”

“Obie.”

“Obie.”

Tony sat down heavily, scrubbed his hand repeatedly over his lower face, and sighed a bone weary sigh. “Had he ever been Dad’s friend?”

“I don’t know,” she said gently. “It doesn’t look like it. I don’t know when he was recruited – I don’t know if that information is there to be found. But it might not be a bad idea to have Friday expend some energy researching more about Obie to see if maybe … if maybe he set them up.”

“Dad had cracked the serum. Obie was his business partner, he had to have known. But … why are there no records of the discovery? Dad documented everything. And by then, he was using videotape – Beta, still, I think.”

“Had you checked the archives?”

“I’ve been going through the database, but I haven’t found anything likely yet. I’m going to have to physically inspect. Maybe there’s something …”

“There’s another name that floated to the top. Mitchell Carson. He was actually on the SHIELD board along with Howard and Peggy Carter in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s. When Hydra came out, he openly switched sides. But apparently he was also a Hydra plant in SHIELD. There are other names, but no one else who had direct access to Howard and his work.”

“Dad was surrounded by a viper’s nest of traitors and backstabbers. The only one he could really trust was Aunt Peggy. I’m sure now that’s where he was headed – to see her.”

“The one person he could trust.”

“The only person he could trust, apparently. Other than Mom. Jesus. Hydra shut down the project when they couldn’t control their new soldiers. What would’ve happened if they had?”

“I’m thinking it wouldn’t have been anything good. Look, I’ll go with you.”

“Where?”

“To the archives. I know you don’t like it there. I’ll go with you.”

“Don’t you have a company to run?”

“I’ve found it runs better when its most important asset has what he needs.”

“I need you.”

“We’ll work on that, too.”

“Okay. But. Lunch first. Just, indulge me. I’ve missed you. I’ve missed us. I’d just like to spend some time, just the two of us, just for a little while. And then we can do the Nancy Drew thing.”

“Still hoping for that hidden doorway, aren’t you?”

“I found one. In Sokovia. I think I need to add some to the tower – whaddya think?”

“I think if you were anyone else, Tony, I’d say you need a hobby. But you picking up another hobby is something I don’t want to think about. All right. Feed me. Then I want to change – I know you keep the archive under climate control, but I always feel grungy when I go there.”

“Any dirt in the archives is in your head.”

“Well, if I’m going to be pulling out old files, I don’t want to do it in Vera Wang and heels.”

“Fair enough. Come, let me feed you. Or the commissary – we actually have a decent chef on staff here.”

“Good thing. You’d starve otherwise.”

“That … is true. Vision doesn’t eat at all. And Rhodey will eat anything you put in front of him – desensitized by years of MREs. That’s the next frontier Stark Industries should take on – edible MREs.”

“We can solve the world hunger crisis later. First, lunch. Then detecting.”

Tony could barely contain the joy that threatened to expand out of his chest and blossom into the world. It was almost like the arc reactor was still intact, about to overload. 

For the first time in months, he found himself overwhelmed with an unfamiliar and yet very welcome emotion.

Hope.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, we know Mitchell Carson ended up being Hydra, yet in 1989, he was one of the top people at SHIELD. At what point in his life was he recruited? I'm thinking pretty young, so I totally buy that he could have been Hydra that early.
> 
> As for Obie. Well, I think he was never loyal to Howard, just to what Howard's genius could get him. Just as he had no respect to Tony's genius. There's a great photoset on Tumblr that actually creates a coherent narrative of Obie and young Alexander Pierce collaborating on the murder of the Starks - put together with photos of Jeff Bridges and Robert Redford when they were about the right age in 1991. Go see it here, by the brilliant mind of SpectralArchers on Tumblr: [Obie and Alex plan to take out Howard for Hydra](http://spectralarchers.tumblr.com/post/114030535237). This is definitely seeped into my head canon ...
> 
> Thoughts? Comments? Bueller?


	15. Resurface

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's a hint of detente.
> 
> What happened to Bruce Banner?
> 
> What happened to the records of Howard's super soldier serum experiments?
> 
> And who did Howard trust above all else?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, all it takes is a little twist of the brain, and suddenly everything becomes clear. Just one thing, and all the other pieces fall into line.
> 
> I had one of those moments tonight, and thus, this chapter was born.

Lunch was pleasant. Good food, not too many awkward pauses, a few moments of simply loud chewing, and food-filled smiles. All in all, not too horrible, as Bruce would say. If he were here. If he weren’t forced to hide, forced to absent himself from the company of men.

Truth be told, Tony had found it easier to forgive Wanda for fucking with his head than he’d been able to let go of her fucking with Bruce’s. She really had no way of knowing what a shitshow she was releasing when she got into the mind of the man who barely contained the Other Guy on a good day. He’d never asked her what she’d shown him. He’d never asked Bruce. But whatever it had been, it had been profound enough to send the Hulk on a rampage unlike any other.

After talking with Ross today, he had to wonder if Ross, the Abomination, all the pain of Bruce’s separation from Betty, his life before, if all of that hadn’t somehow come crashing down around his carefully built walls, and stripped it all aside.

And when Veronica hadn’t been enough, when all the containment protocols he and Bruce – mostly Bruce – had devised had failed to hold the Hulk back for more than a few seconds, that’s when the freak out really began. Because Bruce saw himself as unstoppable. Nothing on this earth was capable of standing in the way of the Hulk. He truly was invincible, moreso than Cap. Moreso than Thor. They could both die. Bruce couldn’t. 

And unlike someone reaching for power, he’d been terrified by the idea that if the Hulk truly lost control, nothing could stop him, nothing could stand up to him. And all that would be left would be death, destruction, and Bruce Banner standing alone in the blood soaked streets, holding the body of a child he’d inadvertently murdered as his other self.

That was Bruce Banner’s greatest fear. That he might not be stopped before he took an innocent human life. That the Hulk would make Bruce the monster.

Thaddeus Ross was responsible for the creation of the Hulk. He’d tried to weaponize it. Now he tried to demonize it. And at the center of it all, was one of the most brilliant minds Tony had ever encountered, and a soul that was as gentle as it was tortured.

He missed Bruce. He missed him every day. He missed his mind, his gentle humor, the way he called Tony on his shit, and the way he could be persuaded to set aside concerns to just do science.

“You’re distracted,” he heard Pepper say, cutting across his reverie.

“Sorry. Seeing Ross, having that discussion. Thinking about Bruce. Wondering how he is. Where he is. If we’ll ever see him again.”

“Mmm,” Pepper agreed, suddenly giving her salad more attention than it reasonably deserved.

“Oh?”

“I didn’t say anything,” she shook her head, and shoved a forkful of greens into her mouth, and chewed carefully while looking at him innocently.

“You’ve heard from him.”

“I can neither confirm nor deny.”

“You have. Just tell me – is he okay?”

“Tony, I … he doesn’t want to be found. You have to let him go.”

“He’s sad. I can cheer him up.”

“You can make him crazy. That’s the last thing that Bruce needs right now.”

“How long ago? Are you talking with him on a regular basis? You’re cheating on me with him! Or he’s cheating on me with you! We really should be a polyamorous triad, you know? He’s our asexual third half.”

“He’s not asexual. He just can’t let his heart rate get too high. And I think a polyamorous triad would just make him feel uncomfortable. I think I’d join him.”

“How is it you know these things about people? Like Agent’s name was really Phil. Bruce isn’t asexual, he’s whatever he is –“

“I listen. I don’t need to fill the void with sound. I listen. And people talk.” She chased a piece of tomato around her plate for a moment. “I’ll listen to you.”

“Hmm. The actual words?”

“Sometimes the spaces in between the words. Sometimes that’s where the truth hides.”

“Who made you so wise?”

“One of us had to be.”

“True that. I need your wisdom.”

“I know.”

“Is there anything you need from me? Of me?” With me?”

“Sometimes … silence. I need you to learn to embrace the silence. To listen.”

“To you?”

“To yourself.”

“Huh.”

“You need to pay attention when your body is flagging. You need to pay attention to when your heart is pushed to the limit. You need to pay attention to when the stress gets to be too much for you to bear alone.”

“It’s my job to bear the stress –“

“No. It’s really not. You made it your job. It’s time to rewrite your job description.”

“Are you about to make an executive decision, Ms. Potts?”

“No. This is something you have to do. I know you like being Iron Man. I know you can’t imagine the world without Iron Man to protect it. But I need you to learn how to listen to yourself so you can recognize when you’re in over your head, when you really need to not be an I, but be part of a we.”

“You sorta sound like Cap. And all his good talk about teamwork and doing shit together.”

“Just because he’s from another generation doesn’t mean he’s always wrong, Tony.”

“Yeah, that’s his most annoying quality.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect.”

“You are.”

“I’m really not.”

“You really are.”

“Well, we’ll table that part of the discussion for another time. But think about what I said, Tony. The one thing your life has always lacked is balance. There’s a middle ground where we can live, I know it. You just have to know it and want it enough.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Well, let’s finish up. An adventure awaits.”

&&&

They’d been in the archives for several hours, and they were still empty-handed. No sign of Howard’s research on the serum anywhere. No evidence he’d even been working on it, and yet there was footage showing he’d not only worked on it, he’d cracked it. It just didn’t make sense.

“There’s nothing that’s not catalogued here. And it’s not in the database, so it doesn’t exist. Yet we know it exists,” Pepper sighed in frustration. She dusted off her hands and shoved them into the pockets of her jeans.

“It doesn’t make any sense. Dad was always a mess, but Jarvis always made him make sense. He brought order to Howard’s chaos. He wouldn’t have misplaced something this important.”

“Could Howard have been so secretive, he didn’t share it with Mr. Jarvis?”

“There are three people in the world that my Dad trusted implicitly – if you don’t count Cap. Mom. Aunt Peggy. And Edwin Jarvis. Okay, four, Ana. He trusted Ana, because she would always put Edwin first. It was a weird little quartet sometimes. Jarvis was more than Dad’s butler. He was Dad’s best friend. And Jarvis was always more than an employee. He was Dad’s biggest supporter and the one most likely to call him on his shit. And Dad listened.”

“I’m sorry I never got to meet him.”

“Me, too. He would have loved you. And you would have loved him. He was very precise, our Jarvis. Very particular. The archives would be one giant mess of weapons of mass destruction if it weren’t for Jarvis. He was the original archivist –“

“What?”

“He was the archivist. Everyone knew he was the archivist. That anything Dad worked on, Jarvis would make sure it was all catalogued, documented, identified by threat level, and secured in the appropriate environment.”

“Wow. That’s more than just archiving.”

“Jarvis was very good as any job he took on.”

“Okay.”

“Kinda like somebody I know.”

“Tony …”

“He was the original archivist. What we’re looking for isn’t in the very thorough, very well documented archive.”

“Yes.”

“Because it’s not in the archive. It’s in Jarvis’s personal archive. Well, the junk vault, really. He didn’t catalogue his own stuff. I always thought that was weird. But what if … what if he did that so no one could find a secret he didn’t want anyone to find?”

“Well, that seems kind of random –“

“It’s really not. Dad trusted no one more than he trusted Edwin Jarvis. Edwin had a tactical mind, he was military intelligence during the war. Hell, so was Ana. Smart people. Smart, suspicious people. Who’d managed to stay alive in a hostile world. And I know for a fact that Jarvis died of natural causes. Obie didn’t suspect a thing – he always thought he was too smart for everybody around him. Which, since he was frequently surrounded by genius was really fucking dumb. But Hubris was Obadiah Stane’s middle name.

They made their way to another part of the archive, to a small locked room in the cool, distant interior of the space, beyond the niches and the special lighting and security measures. Just a simple door, locked by a simple key.

This room held some dust, some cobwebs. Tony felt a stab of guilt for letting Edwin and Ana’s things fall into such a disreputable state. Edwin would have been quite cross. 

It took them another hour or two to sift through the boxes, the envelopes, the valises, and the piles. In the end, everything they were looking for was in a stack of nondescript white filing boxes labelled cryptically, “December 1991.”

The simplicity of it was astounding really. And the cold running through his gut wasn’t so surprising. The symmetry was sickening.

Mission report. December 1991.

December 1991 written in Jarvis’s loopy script.

The end and the beginning. The beginning and the end.

Alpha and Omega.

Files. Notes. Typewritten and hand written, some on the backs of cocktail napkins. Cassette tapes, no doubt containing Howard’s exhaustive description of what he’d done, how it worked, and what next step he needed to take … it was all there.

Hermetically sealed containers. He wouldn’t open those until he was in a class 10 environment, temperature controlled. Samples in those containers could potentially be viable. Or they may have degraded beyond recognition. These were Stark tech. Odds were, whatever they contained was still as potent as the day the containers were sealed.

Videotapes. Beta, as he expected. He’d seen a player when they’d been rummaging. He wondered if it still worked. They’d find out. If it didn’t, he’d fix it. They’d watch these tapes. Learn what they could.

Solve a murder, perhaps.

And what if there was evidence in here that implicated someone, someone who pulled the strings of the Winter Soldier? What if there was something in here that proved that Barnes was … what? Not himself? A puppet? Would that really make a difference? Would that quell his rage? 

“Tony?”

“We should document this. Discovering this box. Isn’t there some issue of chain of custody?”

“In police evidence, yes. We aren’t police.”

“This could be evidence.”

“Friday, are you recording?”

“Yes, Lady Boss.”

“Continue, save, file. Eyes only – Ms. Potts, me.”

“You got it, Boss.”

“How’d you know?”

“That you had installed an interface to Jarvis, now Friday? Have you met you, Tony? Seriously. Let’s get this stuff where we can spread out and study it.”

Tony smiled at her. She might leave soon, go back to her life as CEO, respected around the world. But for now, she was his co-conspirator, his confidante. His partner in crime solving and hidden door finding. This door hadn’t been hidden, except in plain sight.

You old devil, Edwin.

“Hand truck?” she prompted, and he went off in search of one, piled it up with the Beta deck, the boxes labeled December 1991, 

“Shall we?”

“We shall.”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there is more to come. Those boxes contain more than Tony is expecting to find.
> 
> What do you think is in there?


	16. Revisualization

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just what is on those recordings that had been squirreled away by Edwin Jarvis?
> 
> How much did Howard know about Hydra and the super soldier project?
> 
> Who was the Hydra mole?
> 
> How did Howard know that James Buchanan Barnes was not dead, 46 years after he fell to his death from a moving train?
> 
> And what does all this mean for Tony Stark?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For a few weeks after seeing Captain America Civil War, I struggled with Howard's complicity in the Winter Soldier project. It could have gone either way. Or could it?
> 
> I finally settled on my answer. :)

It didn’t take long for Tony to realize that the recordings – hundreds of hours – and the Beta deck from Edwin Jarvis’s storage locker weren’t traditional technology from 1991. They wouldn’t even be traditional technology in 2016. Yet again, Howard Stark had invented something ahead of its time, something that needed to wait until the technology to use it was developed. 

Or rather, until, once again, his son developed the technology needed to make the concept work.

Yay, Dad! Father-son bonding across the decades. Trust Howard to find yet another way to make it weird.

And a worthwhile puzzle.

And possibly fun.

But still …

Howard’s recordings weren’t a single vantage point, and they weren’t a single magnetic layer. Instead, they were multiple camera angles within the same space, overlaid layer upon layer on the magnetic substrate in a process similar to holography, yet not.

It was an entirely new and innovative process. One that Howard had never patented, and like the super serum, had made no record outside of this set of boxes.

It took Tony a day to figure out that there was something odd about the recordings and just what it was. And a few more hours to develop a process with Friday to render the recordings into functional 3D environments.

He then set Friday the task of rendering every single tape recording through the 3D modelling. Dum-E did the physical work of putting tapes into the player, and removing them when Friday was done pulling the information off them.

He admitted to Pepper that the new priority for Friday drew her resources away from the Hydra dump translation, and Pepper accepted his capitulation gracefully, committing more Stark Industries resources to the task in balance.

“So. Our bet?”

“I think we can work things out on our own.”

“So … a kiss?”

She leaned across and pressed her lips to his cheek.

“That’s not what I was talking about. That wasn’t the deal –“

“It’s what you’ll get for now. You’ll have to earn anything more.”

“What, like boss points? What’re the rules of this game?”

“When will the recordings be ready to view?”

“You mean walk through? And that was a clumsy transition. I’ve asked Friday to flag recordings in which a series of keywords are mentioned: serum, supersoldiers, Rogers or Cap, Barnes, Hydra. Think of anything else?”

“That should do it. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“No.”

She slid her hand into his. “I’ll be there with you.”

He looked at her for a long moment, searching her face for some evidence of deceit, but this was _Pepper_. There wasn’t a deceitful atom in her entire physical form. 

“This is something I have to do. I have to know.”

“I know. It’s something you’ve always needed to know.”

“I’ll do it, you know. What I promised you if you won. I’ll do it. You were right, the BARF was just another attempt to self-medicate. I … create things, I … look for crises, look for distraction, look for ways I don’t have to face myself, face my … pain. I don’t want to face my pain. But –“

Pepper had both his hands in hers and she shifted so she rested her forehead against his. “But you can,” she said softly. “You will. You must.”

He nodded silently. “I will.”

She released his hands and slid them to the back of his neck, holding him close. Then she turned her face so her lips aligned with his, and she touched them gently to his. 

He could feel himself trembling at the faint contact. Trembling with want, yes, but more gratitude, love, anticipation. Fear. And an overwhelming _need to know_.

“The first rendering is complete, Boss. Ready when you are,” Friday announced.

Pepper hadn’t let him go, but pressed her lips against his again, a little firmer this time, and he could feel tears tracking down her cheeks. “Ready?” she whispered against his skin.

“No. Yes. Let’s do this.”

&&&

“Oh my God,” Pepper breathed, her fingers seeking out Tony’s as they stood in the rendered environment of Howard Stark’s lab. The recording was on pause, and Tony led her through the space slowly. 

“This is his place in lower east side. His private lab. I thought it was where he saw his private women. Huh, it was a real lab.”

“That’s still one of your holdings.”

“Yeah, he said he kept it because he liked to be reminded of his roots every so often. I kept it because I like the idea of Howard Stark having humble beginnings. I don’t think I’ve been there since he died, though. I never went there before, either. Jarvis took care of everything,” he nodded toward the tall, older gentleman in a perfectly cut three piece suit standing at attention where Howard Stark had his back turned to him.

“So this is Jarvis,” Pepper breathed, stepping around to look up into the face of the man Tony had often referred to as his real father, the man who’d actually spent time with him and gave him the love and guidance he craved. “Thank you,” she said softly. “For taking care of him,” she added, and Tony gasped slightly. Without thinking, she put out her hand to lay it on his wrist, and her fingers went right through, causing the image to ripple and eddy around her fingers until it steadied again a few seconds later. Pepper stared at her fingers in wonder. “I felt something. Electricity –“

“A charge, yes. The images around us are made out of energy, light broadcast at various wavelengths. I’ll need to study it more, but it’s got some interesting applications. Didn’t realize dear old Dad was a _Star Trek_ fan, but he essentially recreated the _Next Gen_ holodeck with this tech. Pretty cool stuff, actually. It’s possible. Probable, even. If we can replicate the recording system with, you know, tech created in the new millennium rather than the old.”

“Do you ever wonder what Howard would make of the advances you’ve made?”

That question caught Tony off-guard. “No,” he answered flatly. “I never have.”

“I think he would have been proud, Tony. Maybe that’s something you should think about.”

“Huh. Let’s see what there is to see, shall we? Friday – commence playback.”

&&&

“Sir, I believe everything is hooked up according to your specifications,” Edwin Jarvis announced diffidently.

“Are we recording?” Howard Stark asked from his workbench, not lifting his head from where he worked on making notes in a small leatherbound notebook.

“Yes, sir,” Jarvis agreed, and Howard put down his pen and turned around with his salesman’s grin.

“Then hello,” he said, looking directly into what was apparently one of the cameras used to make the recording. “We’re coming to you live from my lab on Delancey Street in the Lower East Side of Manhattan. I’d like to introduce you to StarkVision – a revolutionary way to record and view … life.”

“StarkVision, sir?”

“Put a pin in it. We’ll come up with a better name for it later. Although I really don’t see what’s wrong with StarkVision. I’m Howard Stark, and this is my vision.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Cheer up, Jarvis. With all the cameras we’ve installed here, you won’t have to spend any time behind a tripod. I’ll be completely self-sufficient in recording my process and progress. Think of all the free time you’ll have.”

“Yay,” Jarvis answered in a feeble attempt at enthusiasm.

“Ana will be happy to fill your dance card.”

“Yes, sir, you are probably right. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Good thing I’m still looking out for you, Jarvis,” Howard said with an affectionate grin.

“Indeed, sir.”

“All these years we’ve been together, you still can’t get over that, can you?”

“Sir?”

“Exactly. How many times have I asked you to call me Howard?”

“I believe I lost track after you celebrated your 2,000th utterance, sir.”

“And yet, you keep calling me sir.”

“Generally speaking, that is what a butler does.”

“Dammit, Jarvis – you know you’re way more than a butler.”

Jarvis’s lips turned upward in a pleased but faintly embarrassed smile. “Thank you, sir. If that will be all?”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s keep recording. I’ve got the remote, I can shut it down on my own. Give Ana a kiss for me.”

“I surely will not, Sir. She is my wife, after all.”

“You know I’ve never had designs on Ana, Jarvis. Well, maybe that one time when we were all in Berlin after the War. But I blame that on the schnapps.”

“Of course, sir. If that will be all, sir?”

“Oh, fuck the sirs and get out of here. Close the door behind you, will you?” Howard asked, his attention already drifting back to whatever it was he’d been working on when Jarvis had initiated the recording.

Tony took a step closer to join Howard at the bench, peering over to see what captured his attention. Pepper stood her ground, waiting where Jarvis had just walked past her in the simulacrum. “Well?” she prompted.

“Notes on the imaging system. We’ll need to find this notebook. Was it in the boxes?”

“I didn’t go through every one. You’ve got Dum-E handling the videotapes.”

“We’ll need to look for it next.”

“Right.”

“You’re not my assistant any longer, Pep. You haven’t been for years.”

“Old habits die hard. Besides, I’m your partner in detecting, aren’t I?” she asked in all seriousness. Tony nodded once, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Well, then, Mr. Stark, let’s go look for that notebook.”

“Friday, end playback, continue rendering.”

“Of course, Boss.”

&&&

“Dammit, Mitchell. What’re you doing here? This isn’t a SHIELD lab,” Howard complained, setting his notebook aside and thumbing a lock on its cover.

Interesting. Electronic biometric before anyone was thinking biometrics measured electronically. Of course, Dad would think about it. And make it work.

“You haven’t been answering your phone.”

“Because I’ve been busy. I still have a life outside of SHIELD, you know.”

“Yes, well, I thought you’d be interested in this,” Mitchell Carson, one of Dad’s colleagues, Head of Defense for SHIELD. He’d been revealed as a Hydra double agent after the collapse. Tony leaned forward to see what Mitchell had brought to Howard’s private sanctuary.

He set a secure travel case on the bench, and keyed in the entry code. The case opened with an hydraulic hiss. Inside were nestled four silvery spheres, large enough to rest in the palm of his hand.

Howard stared at the spheres, eyes widened, lips parted, for a long moment, his hand suspended motionless over the pen he’d laid down on the bench.

“Is that -?”

“Not Rogers’s, no. There’s nothing left of that – the idiots at Defense wasted the last of it two years ago in that ridiculous cloning fiasco. No, but a team I had assigned to tracking abandoned Soviet tech stumbled across this.”

“A blood bank.”

“A cache of cryogenically stored blood. And notes linking it to Schmidt’s super soldier program.”

“You mean Erskine’s.”

“I mean _Schmidt’s_.”

“Who was Abraham’s first test subject. Against Abraham’s wishes. Schmidt was unfit to be part of the program.”

“But he was an ultimately successful specimen.”

The look Howard gave Carson was withering, as though he thought – rightfully so – that Carson was a particularly noxious bug who’d just reported that bug production was going down due to Raid sales going up. Like, duh. And, who cares? Because, duh.

“And what are you expecting me to do with these samples, Mitchell?”

“They’re another source for Erskine’s formula.”

“An earlier version.”

“A viable version. Look, I could turn these over to the SHIELD labrats. I figured with your involvement in the original program, you’d want first crack at them. If not, I can certainly turn them over to the science boys.”

“Where are the notes. The information on provenance? I need to know more about these samples than that they were found somewhere in Soviet Russia.”

“Siberia. Hydra must have relocated the program materials after Rogers took out Schmidt’s primary base. There are more samples there, and the team can canvas for records, notes, etc. Before I had them invest any more time there, I wanted to make sure there was a reason to do so. Can you test these samples, see if they have the serum in them?”

Howard’s expression was torn, between disgust for Schmidt, and a desire to know. Tony recognized the look – he saw it on his own face every time he looked in the mirror. The drive to understand, to bend reality to one’s will … the cost to the soul was negligible each time, but it added up, it piled up until nothing was left, all mortgaged to curiosity.

Yeah, he understood why Howard hesitated. And why Howard ultimately nodded, taking possession of the case.

“I’ll check it out.”

“I figured you would. Knew you couldn’t resist, Stark! Let me know what you find out. I’ll show myself out.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Howard said under his breath, lifting the case and setting it on his workbench. He drew one of the spheres out of the case and held it in his hand for a long moment, turning it to and fro, catching the light on its smooth surface. Then he triggered the release, and the top popped up, falling backward to reveal the vial of deep red blood and the foggy rise of cold air where it was contained in a temperature controlled environment. “Well, hello my little beauty. What stories do you have to tell me?”

“Pause,” Tony commanded, and Friday halted the playback, leaving Howard frozen in the moment while Tony walked around the lab, hands clasped behind his back. 

“So, Schmidt’s blood? Or did this come from other unfortunate souls who were experimented on by Schmidt’s tame Dr. Frankenstein?” Tony asked the air.

“Your father determined the source of the blood was not Johann Schmidt, Boss,” Friday answered helpfully.

“Did he determine the source of the blood?”

“James Buchanan Barnes, Boss.”

“Barnes.”

“Yes, Boss. And there’s a message.”

“Of course there is. Play it?”

“Coming right up, Boss.”

&&&

“I was approached a little while ago regarding an old Soviet installation in Siberia where notes on the Red Skull’s experiments on the super soldier serum were found, along with frozen samples of blood. Mitchell Carson claimed the samples were from Johann Schmidt, but I’ve proved that’s wrong. Completely, totally wrong. The samples were from James Buchanan Barnes, supposedly from when he’d been held by the Skull and experimented on by Zola. I was able to confirm the identity as Barnes thanks to the fact that I’d done some tests on Bucky back in 1945, and still had notes on them. In point of fact, I still had an old sample of his blood in my collection, so I was able to match it up exactly.

“The samples of Steve’s blood were completely exhausted a couple of years ago when a misguided and disastrous experiment to use them to clone Steve failed. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret my decision to turn over my private stash to Peggy Carter in 1946, but it meant so much to her not to have Steve’s blood exploited. It was the purest sample of Erskine’s formula, but I’d rather be on Peggy Carter’s right side than not. So at this point, there really isn’t much to go on to crack Abraham’s formula.

“So these miraculous samples were from Barnes, after the experimentation. Very, very similar to Abraham’s formula used in Project Rebirth. In fact, I could find only small, really insignificant differences. Abraham hadn’t tweaked it much since emigrating. The difference in Project Rebirth was the selection of the subject, and the advancement of the Vita-Rays. Steve was the difference, when compared to Red Skull. With Barnes as a subject, the results would have been similar to Steve’s, although Barnes didn’t experience so significant a metamorphosis, at least not when he was recovered from Hydra custody, or in the years that followed. He was a healthy and well-built fella to start with, no serious maladies to contend with. So the serum didn’t have to do as much to repair him.

“Anyway, I was able to extract a good sample of the serum and deconstruct it. The samples were remarkably clean, no degradation of the cells. Really flawless cryogenics, which might have been surprising if this had been anyone other than Johann Schmidt and Arnim Zola. With the Tesseract fueling their research, they leapt generations ahead.

“And that was another thing. I had the Tesseract. Barnes’s serum was activated with the Tesseract, not Vita-Rays. Exposure to the Tesseract is not something to sneeze at, so I experimented with exposing the serum to the Tesseract, so that it would already be activated when it was injected. I couldn’t very well do live trials with humans, and I had precious little serum synthesized, but a live trial with a primate showed promising results. We had some containment issues, and unfortunately, the animal had to be put down.

“As Mitchell has provided more and more samples for experimentation, I’ve looked more closely at the samples – how can there be so much material to work with? The samples I received don’t show any signs of degradation, despite their supposed age. As insane as it seems, I am now convinced the samples are being taken from a live source. There’s cellular evidence of freezing, not of the sample, but the source blood, so I suspect cryogenics.

“We never went back for him. There wasn’t time. We no sooner had Zola in custody, and Steve was planning the final assault on Schmidt’s primary base. Within days, he’d downed the Valkyrie, and the course of the War changed radically to our benefit. We never sent a team back to recover Sergeant Barnes’s body.

“What if Hydra found him? What if … Hydra somehow recovered Sergeant Barnes and managed to repair him? And keep him going? We thought we’d destroyed Hydra, but what if we didn’t? What if they’re just lying in wait, waiting to come out of the shadows and try their hand at world domination again?

“Surveillance photos of the assassin known as the Winter Soldier bear an uncanny resemblance to James Buchanan Barnes. With a metal arm that looks suspiciously like a piece of tech that was stolen from my vault back in the ‘40s, and never recovered.

“What if, after all these years, Bucky is still alive? Stored on ice when they don’t need him, but brought out to do their bidding. The serum amplifies what’s inside. That’s why Steve became Captain America, and Johann Schmidt became the Red Skull. James Buchanan Barnes was a good man. A good friend, actually. To turn him into this Winter Soldier, I cannot imagine what they must have had to do to him to turn him away from his own nature. 

“If Sergeant Barnes is in fact still alive, kept alive through cryogenic suspension between missions, this leads me to believe that Steve Rogers may still be alive. Not just recoverable, but _alive_. I believe that when he crashed the _Valkyrie_ , the plane sank under the ice. If Steve was frozen as I suspect he was, then it is very likely he can be revived.

“I’ve synthesized the serum. I’ve cracked it, recreated what Abraham made all those years ago. I’m convinced I can’t trust Mitchell Carson. He’s the one who brought this to me, and I don’t trust or believe his story – I am no longer convinced that Hydra is as gone as we’d assumed, and I am definitely not convinced that it’s safe for me to have this formula. I don’t think it’s safe for anyone to have this formula, but it exists now. I can destroy it, but if Barnes really is alive, and is the source of the serum-enhanced samples I’ve received, then it’s inevitable that someone else will recreate the serum, too.

“It’s become clear that I can’t trust Mitchell. I also fear I can’t trust Obie Stane anymore either – if I ever could. I’m convinced that he’s allied himself with Hydra as well. I know we have to keep the serum out of Hydra’s hands. We have to keep the Tesseract out of Hydra’s hands. More importantly, we need to find that base and shut it down. Recover Sergeant Barnes if possible, kill him, destroy his body if not. And above all else, we’ve got to recover Steve Rogers. If Hydra gets their hands on Steve Rogers’ body, nothing will hold them back.

“Maria and I are taking a little trip for Christmas. Tony is home but as usual, not interested. I’m going to take a short trip to turn my findings and the serum over to Peggy. Jarvis will take care of containing my research so it doesn’t fall into the wrong hands. Pegs and I will work out the strategy to get this under control, to take Hydra down before they have a chance to regroup.

“This is the most important project of my life. This is the future. This is for my son, and for every other child in the world. I won’t allow Tony to grow up in a world controlled by Hydra. My son is going to be free to pursue the things that make him happy, that inspire him, that engage his brilliant mind. I couldn’t be prouder of Tony. I need to make sure I leave him a future he can be proud of me for giving him.”

Howard finished packing up his case with the serum samples, locked it, and nodded to the cameras, flashing a thumbs up, before he exited the lab. For the last time. Tony stood there in the middle of the room, felt the electric buzz as Howard pushed past him in the simulacrum, whispered, “Bye, Dad. I love you.” But more, he felt an overwhelming sense of grief. He ignored the tears running down his cheeks, and just let them flow.

Dad had been thinking of him in his last days. And he hadn’t been fishing for more defense work, he’d been risking everything to make the world a safer place. For him. For his entire generation.

And he’d believed that Hydra had had to torture James Buchanan Barnes to make him the Winter Soldier. He’d known Bucky Barnes, known what kind of man he’d been. Known what he’d been capable of.

Cap said it wasn’t Bucky, that the Winter Soldier who killed his parents wasn’t Bucky. That Hydra had used him.

Hydra had used every part of him, right down to his blood.

As Jarvis entered the lab and began to systematically pull materials and place them carefully in a white storage box, Tony realized he’d reached the end of this chapter. “Friday, do the subsequent recordings show any visitors to this lab other than Jarvis?”

“Mrs. Jarvis came last to deliver lunch for old Mr. J. And Mitchell Carson came looking for lab notes and the formula for the super soldier serum. And Obadiah Stane later came to threaten Mr. J into turning over Howard’s notes and materals. Mr. Jarvis played dumb and didn’t turn anything over. According to his Social Security records, he retired shortly after.”

“He stuck around, though. He tried – he and Ana tried – to take care of me, to help me through losing Mom and Dad.” As the simulated Jarvis packed up box after box, his fluid movement belying his age at the time this footage was shot, Tony felt affection rise up and nearly choke him. He’d never said thank you properly to Jarvis, never shown just how much he cared, how much he appreciated everything Jarvis and Ana tried to do for him. He realized with a stab of pain that they must have been disappointed that he’d been so much more out of control after Mom and Dad were gone.

His feet carried him the few feet separating him from where Jarvis was packing boxes. He fought the urge to reach out and touch, understanding the science of how this image of Jarvis existed, but still, understanding that it was an image only, not the living, breathing human being. 

But when he felt close enough, he said, “Thanks a lot, buddy. I don’t know who’d I’d be if you hadn’t been part of my life. I owe you a debt I can never pay. So I’ll pay it forward to Pepper. You two would have made the universe explode in 10 seconds after meeting each other, you were so perfect for each other. Where Ana was the love of your life, Pep would’ve been your soulmate. And I’m kinda trying to be the love of her life. _Trying_ being the operative word. I really miss you right now, Edwin Jarvis. I really could use your guidance. Your friendship. Your quiet, ‘stop that now, Master Tony, or I shall be obligated to engage force in your apprehension.’ You never did, but you always paid attention. Miss ya, buddy.” And then Tony let himself sink to the floor, where he just cried until the tears didn’t come any longer.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For some reason, this chapter really challenged me. I guess deciding between showing the action over the course of months, or tying it all together with a long narrative section. Ultimately, i decided to keep a lot of the monologue of Howard Stark. It turned out a little different from what I'd originally written, but I am happy with the answers I found for some of my questions.
> 
> As for Tony, he has some answers, too. And some questions. And someone who is still alive that he can direct some of his wrath toward. And some questions, too. Because of course, Mitchell Carson is still alive at the end of Ant Man ...


	17. Retraction

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How did Hydra know that Howard had completed the serum?
> 
> How did Hydra know when he'd be on that road?
> 
> How did Hydra know he'd be on that road?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More questions, more answers, more questions ... so thrilled people are sticking with me on this journey.

Mitchell Carson proved to be more difficult to locate than Tony had expected. The last confirmed sighting of the ex-SHIELD officer and Hydra traitor was in San Francisco, when the headquarters for Pym Technologies was destroyed in a freak accident involving far too many coincidences, and a full size tank suddenly leaping from an upper floor to crash down onto the lawn below.

The whole situation stank of enhanced interference.

And someone with a sense of humor.

And possibly someone who could get very, very small. And very, very big?

Now that the rendering project was done, Friday was back to focusing resources on the decryption and translation project. He and Pepper had agreed that her team had advanced to the point where it made sense to task Friday with decryption so her team could proceed with translation, and to work cooperatively rather than competitively. This way, Tony could redirect resources to additional searches.

Like Mitchell Carson.

Which led to Hank Pym.

Which in turn led to the Pym Particle.

Something else that Mitchell Carson had apparently tried to appropriate, in 1989, causing Hank Pym to resign from SHIELD. A good soldier and a brilliant scientist who’d remained with SHIELD even after his wife was killed during a mission for SHIELD. But a disagreement with Carson, and he was in the wind.

The mission was undertaken by enhanced individuals. Under the command of SHIELD. Not for the first time – and surely not for the last – Tony regretted not pursuing more of a relationship with Aunt Peggy after the death of his parents. She’d reached out to him, invited him to her home, invited him to spend the holidays – all the holidays for the next seven years – with her and her family. People he’d grown up thinking of as cousins, they weren’t strangers. But he’d been so angry, seen her as part of the problem, Dad’s addiction with Washington, that he’d refused every invitation, despite Jarvis’s urgings to join the family. 

Aunt Peggy’s invitations had finally stopped when, in a drunken rage, he’d told her he never wanted to hear from her again, and to please stop butting her fucking English nose in his business. By then, Edwin Jarvis had passed away and Ana had moved to Washington, DC to be closer to Peggy. Happy Hogan had stepped into his life as his major domo. Before long, the new millennium was upon them, and Tony had found even more ridiculous and expensive ways to destroy his life. To punish himself for not being the son his father wanted.

Only he’d finally learned that he had been. He’d always been. Until he wasn’t any longer. He’d been beating himself up for not reaching a bar no one had ever set for him.

How much pain, hush money, and alcohol could have been spared if Howard Stark and his son had ever learned to talk to one another?

But those were decisions he’d made, even if they’d been made with faulty data. He’d lost his opportunity to be closer to Aunt Peggy and her family – he’d tossed it away and pissed all over it. And she was gone now, and he couldn’t ask her the questions that swarmed his mind. 

Had she been aware of Dad’s suspicions of Mitchell Carson?

Had she been aware that Dad thought that Hydra was still active, and that they had James Buchanan Barnes in custody?

Had she known that Dad had cracked the serum?

He had the strong feeling the answer was no to all, that Howard had elected not to risk exposure by talking about any of these issues on the phone. Phones could be tapped. Wireless technology was nascent and extraordinarily vulnerable at the time. The internet was barely more than ARPAnet plus a few bulletin boards, CompuServe, and services like AOL and Prodigy. The backbone was still under construction. The world lived by dial-up, if they’d noticed the virtual world at all.

But she could have shed so much more light on the relationships, the tensions, the concerns, and the fears. He’d have to extrapolate, guess (educatedly), and theorize.

So many questions.

How had Hydra known that Dad had cracked the serum?

How had they known he’d be on that road on that night at that time?

How had they known he’d have the serum with him?

He certainly hadn’t told Mitchell Carson at his lab. He doubted he’d told Mitchell Carson anything, based on his suspicions. So _how_?

Tony had a feeling he’d have to dig to find out. He’d need to find Mitchell Carson.

The more he learned about him, the more he wanted to meet him. While wearing the suit. And he wasn’t talking Tom Ford.

Which gave him an idea. He could play this from more than one angle, work the system to his benefit. But first … he needed to make a trip to San Francisco.

&&&

“The last thing I ever wanted was a Stark in my living room.”

“Wow. Thanks for the warm welcome.”

“Beats my foot up your ass,” the old guy snarked, settling more comfortably into his chair as he regarded Tony balefully.

“Hank,” the beautiful young woman with porcelain skin and a dark-haired bob admonished him. Why a bob? Why not a Robert, Tony wondered, then let his attention be wrested back by Hank Pym and his acerbic hatred of all things Stark.

“Pym Technologies is not for sale,” Hank Pym groused, and then took a sip of his tea.

“I’m not looking to buy. Although, I imagine you could use an infusion of cash after the destruction of your headquarters and the disappearance of your CEO.”

“Pym Technologies is fluid enough to absorb the hit. We’re in the process of rebuilding the primary campus now. It’s unfortunate that some projects were destroyed, the data lost, but the good stuff is still moving forward at satellite facilities all over the area. We’ve retained over 90% of our work force, and we’re financially sound,” Hope – van Dyne, her mother’s maiden name, according to Friday’s research – replied archly.

“The not-shrinking stuff, you mean,” Tony said, and dipped his head to take a sip of his own tea. 

“I told you this wasn’t a good idea, Hope,” Hank replied sourly, setting his teacup and saucer back down on the table.

“Perhaps we need to let Mr. Stark explain himself.”

“I’m not here representing the Accords. I’m not here representing Stark Industries or any iteration of SHIELD. I sure as hell am not representing Hydra.”

“Then who are you representing, Mr. Tony Stark? I’ve never met a Stark who didn’t have an agenda.”

“I can see why Dad liked you. Not many would bother to try to stand up to him. You were successful. And you retained full control over your technology. Until now.”

“That sounds ominous.”

“It should. If what I suspect is true.”

“And what is it you suspect, Mr. Tony Stark?”

“Please, just … just call me Tony.”

“And you may call me Dr. Pym.”

“You can call me Hope. For now.”

Tony allowed himself a small chuckle, and nodded his respect to them both. “My … my company’s CEO is currently spearheading an effort to decrypt and translate the full data dump of SHIELD and Hydra. The recent activities in Germany, at the UN, were triggered by someone using information they’d extracted from the data dump. No one has tried to clear the entire body of information – for the public good, we need to know whatever other time bombs are in the pile. I found information about your Particle in the SHIELD records. And in my Dad’s. But that’s not why I’m here – although I think you should know the information is out there,” Hope’s face turned paler, if that were humanly possible, and Pym’s mouth fell open slightly before he recovered himself and closed it with a snap.

Tony took a deep, steadying breath, counted down from ten, and nodded to himself. He could do this. This was a step on the road to redemption, to proving he was worthy of Pepper. Of himself, perhaps.

“You know that my parents died in December 1991. I learned very recently that they were murdered. By Hydra. To get a serum that my father had developed.”

“The … ?” Pym asked with a hand gesture. Tony merely tilted his head. “Howard always was too smart for his own good. I’m sorry. It’s never easy to lose someone. It’s especially difficult to realize they were taken from you.”

“Yeah,” Tony agreed, his throat suddenly tight. He swallowed, shook his head slightly and swallowed again, and this time it worked okay. He was okay.

“But I don’t understand what that has to do with us,” Hope prompted gently. 

He could tell looking into her eyes that she knew what losing a parent felt like, but her grief also seemed very fresh, like his. A death in the past, a realization, a revelation in the present. Raw and immediate. She’d learned something about her mother’s death very recently, based on the shimmering of tears in her eyes, the tightness around her mouth, the set of her jaw. He willed his face to soften, to telegraph his sympathy. Her eyes widened in surprise, but she nodded nonetheless. 

So. Something in common, then. Something in common that might open the door, maybe?  
  


“I believe we may have a common enemy. I’ve been researching my Dad’s records, especially those around the last project he worked on. And of course, we’re working on the decryption and translation project. There’s a name that’s floated to the surface, someone I’d never heard of, but I think you’ve seen him recently –“

“Mitchell Carson. We didn’t know at the time that he was Hydra,” Pym said venomously.

“I believe he may have had my parents killed. And the serum was stolen for Hydra.”

Pym’s very fuzzy eyebrow quirked upward as his mustachioed lips turned downward. “That is not good news.”

“No. Fortunately, it did not go well for Hydra. It looks as though that particular project may have been abandoned, at least for a while.”

“But you’re looking for Mitchell,” Pym surmised.

“I’m looking for him, yes. I think he can answer questions. I think I can convince the Accords Panel to arrest him –“

“No. You need to take care with Mitchell Carson. And involving that panel thing … that’s dangerous in this situation,” Pym suddenly interrupted.

“I’m accountable to the Accords –“

“Then we have nothing further to discuss, Mr. Stark. I’m sorry that you learned something terrible about your parents – I’m sure it makes it seem like you just lost them all over again. But we cannot become involved with the Accords Panel,” Hope announced abruptly, standing and turning slightly to show him the way out.

“Okay, okay. I get it. You don’t want them getting their hands on the Pym Particle.”

“How do you know about that?”

“Howard Stark’s records? SHIELD’s data dump? Hydra’s data dump? There are records of it. Verifiable records. Linking the particle to you personally, Dr. Pym.”

“If you’re here to make threats –“

“I’m not. I’m here to warn you –“

“You signed the Accords. You created this world –“

“I signed the Accords to prevent something worse from happening –“

“Registration of all – what is it we’re calling it now? ‘Enhanced individuals’. Deployment at the whim of a UN panel. If an enhanced refuses to sign up, they are forbidden to use their abilities. Sounds an awful lot like what your friend the Captain went to war over, son. Next thing you know, we’ll be looking at yellow stars and tattoos.”

“Dad,” Hope interrupted, but Pym wasn’t done yet.

“I think you need to go. _Now_ , Mr. Stark.” 

“I didn’t come here to threaten. I didn’t come here to shove the Accords down your throat. I just thought they could be useful –“

“Mitchell knows about the Pym Particle. Knows that Dad has used it. Knows about –“

“Scott Lang.”

Hope’s perfect eyebrow arched upward.

“We met. In Germany. And again after. Packs a punch for a little guy. Even more when he’s the size of a building.” At the shocked and worried expressions on their faces, he smiled. “He’s okay, but I expect you probably know that. I didn’t know who he was at the time, and I didn’t know what he was talking about when he said Hank Pym told him he could never trust a Stark. The entire thing is a mess, I admit it. I thought it was the right thing to do, to avoid something much worse. But I’ve been reminded repeatedly that the Accords themselves go too far. And I’m beginning to agree.”

“So, Mitchell,” Pym prompted impatiently.

“I can’t just go in repulsors blazing. I’m accountable to the Accords.”

“Kinda sucks to be you,” Hope commiserated while not being sympathetic at all.

“But I need to know. I need to know his involvement in my parents’ deaths. How and why. And then I need him to suffer. I need to be able to get him on something, something that will result in him ending up in the worst possible jail cell I can devise, without benefit of parole.”

“Well, then, Mr. Stark. Now you’re talking my language,” Pym said with a predatory smile. “Stay awhile. And call me Hank.”

&&&

With an agreement that concluded with an ambiguous, “I know a guy. Or three,” from Hank, Tony left the Pym-Van Dyne household feeling a little more hopeful, a little relieved, and a lot more doubtful.

Hopeful that he’d get the resolution he sought, the answers he needed. 

Relieved to learn that while Mitchell Carson had managed to steal the particle, he’d been rounded up in aftermath of the destruction of Pym Technologies, and taken into custody for questioning. While no charges had been pressed, he had been relieved of the particle during questioning, and it was returned to Hank Pym when Hank pointed out it was Pym Technologies property, and that Mitchell Carson was an industrial spy. Neither he nor Hope wanted to have to deal with proving ownership of the particle in a court of law, so they’d elected at the time not to press charges, a decision Hank particularly had regretted every day since. So Tony Stark walking into their parlor with a plan for revenge was actually a pretty sweet accident.

Doubtful that the Accords were the right direction for any of them.

He’d put in a call to Friday, and provided more precise facial recognition parameters using a photograph that Hope had on her phone. Then he called Pepper and introduced her to Hope. He had a feeling they were going to be fast friends. And dangerous companions. He might have just set the world on a collision course with destiny, introducing two such intelligent, powerful, and assured women. And he suspected the Hope had abilities every bit as formidable as Pepper’s. They were both motivated. They were both unencumbered by the Accords for the moment, as neither of them were known to be enhanced. They could act independently, as private citizens, and officers in their own companies.

He had no doubt that with the trio of Friday, Hope Van Dyne, and Pepper Potts, Mitchell Carson would find himself in Tony’s crosshairs in the very near future. 

&&&

Tony had decamped to the reconstructed Malibu house while Hank and Hope’s crew carried out their plan to capture Mitchell Carson. All of them had been surprised to learn that Carson was in the Bay area, rather than anywhere else in the world. He hadn’t been waiting around, hooping for the particle to fall into his lap. Friday had tracked his whereabouts over the months since the destruction of the Pym Tech building, and he’d slingshotted the globe, frequently showing up in hotspots and countries on the brink of war. A pattern quickly emerged, not of a peacemaker, but a destabilizer. Mitchell Carson, once the head of Defense for SHIELD, was in the business of toppling world governments. If Tony needed any further evidence that vestiges of Hydra still existed, he didn’t anymore. And he no longer had a team he could call on to go into a hotspot to help stabilize, or to get on the trail of Hydra so they could bring it down.

Von Struyker. Wanda. Tony’s own fear and his own ego. His need to protect the world, his hubris to think he could. Ultron.

What happened in Lagos was just icing. The team was put in that position not because anyone was careless or uncaring. They’d been put in the position by a fucking terrorist with no respect for human life, who was in the process of blowing himself up when Wanda tried to contain the blast and lift it above the very vulnerable populace.

She didn’t know enough about physics, concussion waves, the impact of force to forecast what would happen to her protective bubble when Rumlow actually blew.

Two weeks ago, Tony would be blaming himself for not thinking to teach Wanda about physics.

Two weeks of daily conversations – laid back, no pressure, really kind of liberating conversations by phone – with a doctor Pepper had found for him, and Tony saw it less as more blame to pile on his shoulders, and more as an opportunity to teach Wanda something she didn’t know, something that she could use to exercise greater control, to feel better about her abilities.

He might never get over it all, but it was nice to have someone listen. It was nice to hear someone say, “That’s probably further than you should have taken it.” Or, “Is that really something that you are responsible for?” It was strange how such questions asked by a stranger carried greater weight than if they’d been asked by Pepper or Bruce.

It would probably never take the place of building suits. Or having the urge to wrap the world in a Snuggie to prevent it from blowing itself up. But maybe if he heard, “That’s not your personal responsibility to do all on your own,” 1,000 times, it might sink in. A little. Maybe enough to make a difference.

And for the first time in his life, he found himself wondering if that’s what had driven Howard. If Howard had had an urge to protect the world, and felt the need to do it with his own genius. The fun he had along the way was incidental, but the urge was always there.

He’d heard some of that in his voice that last day.

Maybe the best parts of Tony Stark weren’t so different from the best parts of Howard.

&&&

Pepper flew out for the festivities, insisting she’d invested enough time and effort into the plot, she deserved to be there for the final act. Tony tried not to cringe when she and Hope went off to have brunch and hit the shops together. Hank was frowning mightily as he watched his own daughter drive off with Tony’s only Someone.

Tony had met the “guys” that Pym had called in, and he was still kind of reeling from the experience. Lang’s crew. Up until that point, he’d been coming to the conclusion that Lang had some promising skills, and maybe once they sorted out the Accords, he might be able to give him a job in Stark Industries. Then he met Kurt, Dave, and crazysuperfine Luis. After feeling like his brain had been twisted in a yarn wrapping machine, then pulled out through his nose to wrap around his head before it went into a blender, Tony was adamant that Lang would work for him. If he could survive that experience, he was someone Tony wanted on his team.

He was glad the boys didn’t care to stick around, because he didn’t want to reveal too much. Carson was out cold, and would remain that way for several more hours. So Tony had time to prepare.

&&&

Mitchell Carson woke up to the sensation of heat. And air that was stifling. And a space so small, it was pressing against him. Or he was pressing against it. Whatever it was, it was uncomfortable.

He had a vague recollection of three very strange men, led by a one who spoke so fast and with such a convoluted logic, Mitchell had barely contained the urge to simply shoot him in the head.

Clearly, that had been the wrong decision. See Exhibit A, above.

“Where am I?” he asked authoritatively. Never let the terrorists know you’re frightened.

There was no answer, just a faint increase in temperature. It seemed like it was centered on the crown of his head. Sunlight, perhaps? Beating down on the whatever he was in, warming it from above?

He realized that he could see a faint light from in front of him, but nothing definitive. No moving shapes, no landmarks to indicate where he was. He was cut off from light, sound, touch. Like he was in one of those isolation tanks they used back in the 1960s to interrogate prisoners. Back before he infiltrated SHIELD. But the heat and the vague light were enough stimulation for him to hold onto, so he didn’t run the risk of drifting away in his own head.

Suddenly the visor lit up, and mechanical letters typed themselves across the expanse of the screen.

“DECEMBER 16, 1991.”

Well, that was rather random. Or rather, very precise to be random.

“What about it?” he answered softly, testing to see how loud he needed to be, how quiet he could be to fall below the register of whatever was monitoring his voice.

“HOWARD AND MARIA STARK," typed across the screen, one line down from the original question.

“Well, that was a little more specific. He’d been shocked and infuriated when he’d found out what Hydra had done that day. There was still so much more they could have gotten from Stark. So many inventions in the pipeline that he was sure he’d be able to convince Stark to let his true employer take custody. Instead, they’d killed him for one invention that eventually went nowhere. Killed the goose that laid the golden egg every other day, for Christ’s sake. Short-sighted and ill-informed.

But, the timing had worked out nicely for Mitchell. With Stark out of the way, he could relax a bit, enjoy the holidays with his family. Stop having to worry about Stark figuring out he was a Hydra double agent. Stop having to worry about Stark vetoing technical projects that suited his agenda – and Hydra’s – all while looking for recruits to bring into the Hydra fold. He’d watched John Garrett get recruited, regretted not being the one to bring him in. Perhaps if he’d been Garrett’s handler in the beginning, he wouldn’t have gone so batshit crazy at the end.

“I don’t know what you’re asking,” he ventured.

"YOU PROVIDED SAMPLES FOR SERUM EXPERIMENTS."

“No. I didn’t.”

"HOWARD STARK RECORDS DIFFER."

“I didn’t do that.”

“VIDEOTAPE EVIDENCE.”

Well, shit.

“Videotapes can be tampered with.”

“TIMESTAMPED. NO GAPS.”

“I think you’re mistaken about anything being truly evidence. “

“WE KNOW YOU’RE WRONG.”

“Is this an Iron Man suit?”

“NO.”

And so it went for a period of time that Mitchell couldn’t measure. The ambient light in the little window didn’t change once. The typing across the screen remained, his only contact with the world behind his prison.

The questions remained the same. As soon as he said something remotely different, exhausted from the questions, and tired of the relentless repetition, the questions changed. The temperature inside the tiny space seemed to keep growing up gradually, leaving him sweating profusely, but his mouth going drier as each moment passed.

“HOW DID HYDRA KNOW EXPERIMENTS WERE COMPLETE?”

The question kept repeating, sometimes the wording was different, sometimes a new question or three were asked, and then the same question was repeated. Suddenly he was thinking about that time he felt that Hydra had not been loyal to him, why was he getting water for the Winter Soldier, waiting on a puppet? No. He was drifting. His head ached, he was dizzy, thirsty, his throat ached and his limbs felt like they belonged to someone else.

“HOW DID HYDRA KNOW EXPERIMENTS WERE COMPLETE?”

Distracted, he answered, “Howard wouldn’t leave town if he still had a hot project in development.”

“BECAUSE HE MADE ARRANGEMENTS FOR CHRISTMAS, THE EXPERIMENT MUST BE COMPLETE.”

Mitchell didn’t answer, but whoever was asking the questions had found the right answer.

“HOW DID HYDRA KNOW WHEN HE WOULD LEAVE?”

Again, the cycle of questions, repeating the question, heat building up inside this chamber, air withering away. He felt like the air in his lungs was becoming superheated, that it would cook him from the inside out.

In frustration, he demanded, “Are you going to kill me?”

The faceplate was silent, no text, and suddenly, it went dark.

Mitchell was in complete darkness, in a space only inches larger than he was, with no source of water or food, with thinning air, and with increasing heat. He had a headache that made his scalp tight, made him feel like he was going to pitch forward with fatigue and dizziness. Fear started to gnaw at the edges of his awareness, making them ragged and black.

Then suddenly, the air seemed to spark, and the faceplate came back on.

“HOW DID HYDRA KNOW WHEN HE WOULD LEAVE?”

“If you’re going to kill me anyway, what incentive do I have to answer you?”

“NO PROMISES.”

“I need assurances.”

Another barrage of random questions, some related, some completely out of left field. Again and again, the question flashed up on the screen, and when he didn’t answer, more questions. More heat.

“Maria,” he blurted suddenly.

“EXPLAIN.”

“Social calendar. To invite them over for dinner.”

“HOW DID HYDRA KNOW THEY WOULD BE ON THAT ROAD?”

Mitchell was growing weary, and the answer was so simple. He wasn’t betraying anything, he wasn’t admitting anything, by answering.

“Howard always took that route when he was heading to Washington.”

The faceplate went dark again.

And stayed dark.

There was silence, and darkness, and heat.

And then, there was cool oblivion.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, I might some day write the caper in which Kurt, Dave, and crazysuperfine Luis manage to track down and kidnap Mitchell Carson. It would be fun to explore their dynamic without Scott to bring them down to earth - but maybe with Hope kicking their butts.
> 
> This is the Marvel Cinematic Universe. I guess I'm going to explore many corners of it. This just made sense.
> 
> I think we will soon be picking up the threads of the lives of other Avengers soon ...


	18. Restitution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens next with Mitchell Carson?
> 
> And what's happened to someone we haven't heard from in a while?
> 
> And could Pepper Potts be any more awesome?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, clearly what was missing from both Age of Ultron and Civil War as Pepper Potts. I really don't have anything else to say after that. :)

“We’re gonna have to get better locks.”

“Sir?” Sharon looked up from where she was annotating a file while working with documents spread across the conference table by the Task Force control room. Everett Ross stood in the doorway, propped against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest like he was hugging himself.

“We’re gonna have to get better locks. The goddamned Avengers are treating this facility like it’s a goddamned book drop, goddammit. Was it goddamned Romanoff again this time?”

“Sir?” she asked again, because obviously something had happened and she was not in the loop. Which told her it was unlikely to have been Natasha.

“We got another one in holding. Still unconscious, all but tied up with a f- _frigging_ bow. And a big-ass file folder loaded with evidence on my desk. Any ideas?”

She didn’t have to think very long. There weren’t really a lot of possible culprits, and if anyone and anything had been left by Steve or King T’Challa, she suspected they would have been careful to take credit for the capture. Steve was, after all, still on the global watchlist, and T’Challa was not one of Everett’s favorite people right now. “I think it was probably Stark, sir.”

“Actually, it was Potts,” Pepper Potts announced as she entered the nerve center of the Joint Terrorism Task Force headquartered in Berlin. 

“Ms. Potts,” Everett Ross greeted sarcastically. “I don’t even want to ask how you got in,” he nodded toward her high level security pass. “Doing the Avengers’ dirty work for them now?”

“Well, realistically, I am not a signatory to the Sokovia Accords, so I’m not beholden to them. As a private citizen, I can now do things the Avengers cannot. But no. Stark Industries has undertaken the decryption and translation of the Hydra Files Ms. Romanoff uploaded to the net two years ago. A task the intelligence community has failed to even prioritize or allocate resources for. After everything that happened with Colonel Zemo, we felt it was in our best interests to apply resources to the task.”

Ross nodded thoughtfully, hefting the paper file to illustrate his question, “And that translation led you to Mitchell Carson.”

“He was behind the executions of Howard and Maria Stark. It’s unlikely anyone can prove his complicity in the murders, but there’s enough in there to put him away for several lifetimes,” Pepper said calmly, pulling out a chair at the conference table and seating herself. She looked up at Ross expectantly.

“You’ll have to forgive me, I haven’t had a chance to review your gift yet. And you’ve delivered him to us because …?”

“Because of his involvement in terrorist activities around the globe. I think you’ll find that he was personally in charge of quite a few actions that have challenged your operation, as well as the anti-terror community worldwide. I felt that delivering him to domestic law enforcement might lead to a less than optimal response, considering we don’t yet know for certain that Hydra is completely eradicated. Mr. Carson’s recent activities would indicate that there is still an organization out there. He’s had significant resources at his disposal, although that’s been dwindling as the Avengers took out Hydra hotspots. However, if no one is continuing the good work, we could see a resurgence in Hydra activity. Mr. Stark noted that he felt you were … uncompromised.”

Sharon bit back the urge to smirk, instead covering her mouth with her hand and schooling her features to look attentive and serious. “Um, Mr. Stark has fully recovered from his injuries?” she inquired politely.

“Physical trauma, yes. Emotionally … the videotape that Colonel Zemo shared was very upsetting, to say the least. Mr. Stark is in serious need of closure. And I think we all are in need of some closure of our own – closing the loopholes where Hydra lives.”

Everett nodded thoughtfully to himself, and set the file folder down on the glass-topped table. He went over to the coffeemaker, lifting a cup in offering to Ms. Potts. She shook her head. He poured himself a cup, noted the arched eyebrow of his chief investigator, and smiled to himself, and poured another. He set them on a small tray with creamers, sugar packets, and wooden stirrers, and brought them all to the table. “I can get you tea if you prefer?”

“Thank you, that won’t be necessary.”

He handed off a cup to Sharon, who murmured her thanks, and then sat across from her. He set the other cup in front of him, pausing to position it just so. “You seem to have a fine grasp of Hydra viability.”

“Stark Industries has a long and adversarial relationship with Hydra. If you recall, I was on the list for ‘crossout’ when Project Insight was launched. As was Mr. Stark. And his father was heavily involved in what we’d all thought was the eradication of Hydra back in the 1940s. And of course, he was murdered by them in 1991.”

“Honestly, anyone with a mind of their own and an ounce of compassion was on that list, Ms. Potts. Had Hydra launched those helicarriers, the world would be a lot more white, male, and hateful today than it already is.” He tore the corner off a sugar packet and tapped the crystals into his coffee. Sharon could tell that he was aware of her arched eyebrow of interest, but chose to continue setting up his cup.

“And you have a remarkable grasp of the true threat of Hydra,” she said, surprised. “Y’know, I think I will have a cup,” she added, and got up to go help herself. Everett hid a smile as she busied herself with pouring the steaming liquid and walking back to the table carefully with it.

“You can’t live in Germany for any length of time, and not get what Hydra represents, or why it can’t be tolerated to make a comeback. Historians aren’t agreed on whether it was an offshoot of Nazi Germany, or something that was here much longer and found fertile ground to renew itself in the Third Reich, but whatever it was, it took the Aryan ideal and put it on steroids. ‘If you’re not one of us, you don’t deserve to live.’ Not exactly the ideal I signed up to protect.”

“Me, neither,” Sharon said softly.

“Ms. Carter,” Ms. Potts greeted, frowning. “I apologize – my sincere condolences regarding your aunt – I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but she was a personal hero for me.”

“Me, too. I think you would have got on well,” Sharon replied with a smile, and meant it. Aunt Peggy would have liked Pepper Potts. Together they would have changed the world a lot faster than was happening now.

Ms. Potts paused for a moment, as if weighing options. Then she drew in a breath, and smiled sadly. “Tony regrets that he wasn’t at the funeral, that he wasn’t more present in your aunt’s life. He called her ‘Aunt Peggy’ too, but he pushed her away after his parents’ deaths. He did a lot of things after his parents were killed that he regrets now – the clarity of surviving to get older. That’s time he can never get back, and right now, he’s feeling the loss. If you could convey that to your father – I understand they were friends once, when they were children.”

“I, uh, that is –“ Sharon foundered, broadsided by the raw honesty of Ms. Potts’s statement. I’ll be sure to let Dad know. I didn’t realize that Mr. Stark knew Aunt Peggy.”

“Howard Stark and Peggy Carter transformed the SSR into SHIELD. They weren’t just business partners – I understand they were close friends. Your aunt was the one person in the world that Howard Stark trusted without reservation. Other than his wife, and Edwin Jarvis, of course.”

“I never had the pleasure, either. But Sharon here is a gifted investigator, and a heckuva good shot. Great agent. I’m told she gets that from the Carter side of the family,” Everett smiled warmly. Sharon blushed slightly and waved her fingers to change the subject. He nodded once and turned back to Ms. Potts. “Now, as to Carson …”

“The documentation is extensive. I will admit that reading through it is not for the faint of heart – I felt physically ill, especially regarding his activities in Africa.”

“Hmmm,” Ross said, running his tongue over his top teeth thoughtfully. “ISIS?”

“And Boko Haram. And Al Quaeda. He seems to have a penchant for weaponizing religious extremists.”

“This information was acquired legally.”

“Well, if you consider the SHIELD/Hydra upload legal, then yes. Essentially, it’s public information. It’s there, we’re focusing on triaging the data, determining if there are other threats buried in the data stack. Mr. Stark – the entire Avengers collective – suffered greatly due to just a single event being pulled from the pile.”

“By all accounts, it was a significant event.”

“Yes.”

“Please give Mr. Stark my condolences. I know he lost his parents years ago, but with everything going on, it must feel very recent. “

Sharon was fortunate enough to still have both her parents, but the recent loss of Aunt Peggy was one that cast a pall on every day she realized that Aunt P was gone. She couldn’t imagine how Tony Stark must feel, having the deaths of his parents dredged back up so horrifically.

“It does, thank you. Now what can you do with Carson?”

“We can begin proceeding, if the evidence here is as good as you claim it is. While we’re holding him, we can begin the process of corroboration. Is there anything I don’t want to know that you need to tell me?”

“No. I honestly don’t know how he came to be at Stark Tower. He has a history of industrial espionage – his presence at Pym Technologies when the building was destroyed was apparently linked to his bidding on sensitive and potentially game-changing technology – technology that would certainly raise ethical questions, if not legal ones.”

“There are rumors about what Darren Cross was trying to peddle. I agree, that’s a telling juxtaposition,” Everett agreed. At Sharon’s raised eyebrow, he elaborated, “Another suit, this one able to make its wearer the size of an insect. The ‘Yellowjacket’. Could’ve destabilized the whole region, if not the world, if Hydra or any other black ops organization got their hands on the tech. Let’s be thankful it was destroyed with the building, hmmm?”

“Yes. The potential for abuse was significant. As for the discussion we had with him about his involvement in Howard and Maria’s deaths … well, let’s just say that perception and imagination are more powerful than actual danger,” she added with a sweet smile.

 _Hell_ , Sharon thought. _I would not want to go up against this woman!_

Everett sat back in his seat, rubbing his index finger back and forth across his upper lip. “Okay. I can work with this. You know I don’t have any influence over Secretary Ross’s perceptions, however.”

Pepper Potts’s smile grew wide and delighted. “Mr. Ross, I’m not delivering Mitchell Carson to you to impress Secretary Ross. I’m delivering him to you because I expect justice. And justice in this case means, at the very least, punishment. Real punishment, not a cushy white collar prison where he gets five star meals and spa privileges. This man is responsible for the deaths of hundreds if not thousands of people. I may be concerned specifically with just two, but that doesn’t change the enormity of his crimes.”

“No. No, it doesn’t. Technically, I can’t provide updates to a private citizen, or a corporation. But … given your SSR connections, perhaps you and Ms. Carter here should swap family stories, hmm?”

Sharon tilted her head and gave him an arch look, but he just smiled faintly and shrugged. Okay, then. Sharon was the official Pepper Potts handler. There were worse things she could add to her resume.

“Well, in that case,” she offered, “maybe you and I could take an early lunch. If that’s okay with you, Sir?”

“I think you’ve both earned it, don’t you? I’ll start Jenkins on verifying the details in here,” he hefted the folder again, “and when you get back, you can take point on the effort. I’ll let Jenkins know he’ll be reporting to you. You’re team lead. Okay?”

The opportunity to close some of the deadliest cases in their backlog was enticing, thrilling. And to be the lead on the case even more so. She smiled and nodded. Then she and Pepper Potts left the conference room, and ultimately the facility to go to a café not far from the building. The café where she often met Natasha Romanoff. 

Neither of them were surprised to find Nat waiting for them there, already nibbling at her lunch and nursing an expresso.

&&&

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. You sure about this? I mean, I’m fine where I am, really –“

“I’ll give you the final details when I have them. But I think it’s time you weren’t by yourself. Don’t you? And from everything Natasha said, it sounds like King T’Challa is the real deal. You’ll be safe there.”

“It’s not _me_ I’m worrying about, Pepper.”

“I know that. I know you think you need to protect the public. But don’t you also need closure? Don’t you need to work through what’s happened?”

“I … I … maybe. Maybe you’re right. But … don’t tell Nat. I,” he sighed heavily, dragging his hand over his lower face. “I just don’t want to disappoint her again.”

“She told me. I think honesty would be better than silence.”

“Yeah, well, you live with Tony Stark. I think that leaves your judgment a little suspect, don’t you?” She was silent for a long moment, and he feared he’d offended her. “Pepper? Are you there? I’m sorry –”

“We’ve been on a break,” she explained quietly. “He can’t stop building suits, and he wouldn’t see anyone, not someone who could really help. He just kept trying to solve it all on his own.”

“That sounds like Tony. He’d never admit to his savior complex. Any more than he’d admit to his PTSD.”

“You know about that.”

“Kinda hard not to. Tony’s been wound so tight for so long, it was inevitable he was going to break. I’m just surprised it didn’t happen sooner. Anyone who doesn’t know him, wouldn’t even realize that’s what’s happened. And still he won’t get the help he needs.”

“You’re right. Well, maybe that _will_ happen. We made a deal. He’s talking to a therapist.”

“Someone other than me or Helen Cho.”

“Someone qualified, yes.”

“Well, that’s a relief. I don’t think I could take another session of Tony baring his soul like that that,” he chuckled, and she giggled along with him.

“No. But … I can’t help feeling some responsibility. Things were rocky before you all went to Sokovia. We were fighting a lot.”

“I know. Hey, I lived in the Tower, too. I have functioning ears. Plus, Tony talked.”

“Of course he did. I feel like I could have helped him, maybe … maybe things wouldn’t have gone so wrong.”

“I don’t think you could have stopped him from building Ultron, Pep. It was something he felt … obligated to do. Like, touched by destiny obligated. It was batshit crazy, and completely the wrong idea. We know that now. But at the time, at the time it sounded like it was exactly what we had to do. We were just tryin’ to save the world. And in the process, we almost ended it. Just another day at the office for the Science Brothers.”

They were both silent for a long moment, until she cleared her throat and picked up the thread as though he hadn’t talked of how close they’d all come to oblivion. “Wanda is in Wakanda. With Steve and the others.”

“I,uh. Shit. I haven’t spoken to her since. Since Sokovia. Since we went up against Ultron.” His stomach roiled at the memory. So much rage. So much destruction.

“I have. A few times. She needed a role model who wasn’t a spy, you know? Someone who wasn’t looking to exploit her. We went to lunch a few times, shopping. I tried to show her what western freedom looks like.”

“That was nice of you. I don’t think we’re going to braid hair and do nails, Pep.”

“No, but you need to talk with her. You’ve got some demons, ghosts. You both do. You can help each other put them to rest.”

“I dunno.”

“I do. You need to find it in you to let go. She needs your forgiveness, and then she can start to forgive herself. Maybe you can start to forgive _yourself_.”

“It’s a bit more complicated than forgiving myself. I trashed a major South African city. On television. There are warrants out. And you just know Ross is itching to get his hands on me again,” he added bitterly, thinking of everything that General Thaddeus Ross had done, and how the President had given him even more power. And now with the Accords … Ross might finally get what he wanted all along. An enhanced army, at his command.

“We’re working on an appeal to have the warrants rescinded. And we’re working on addressing the Accords. I promise you, Secretary Ross is _not_ going to be an issue.”

“Adding sorceress to your resume, Ms. Potts?”

“I’ve always been good at facilitating. And God knows, we need someone to facilitate mitigating the Accords and sorting everything out so everyone can just come home.”

“Home,” he chuckled bitterly. “I don’t even know where that is anymore.”

“You talked to Betty?”

“Yeah. She’s doing good now. She gets it, she understands why we can’t be together, and the guy in her life – well, he knows about me, knew about me back then. He’s actually the one who ‘informed’ on me, but I’ve talked to him, and he’s apologized like 50 times. He just wants to make her happy. That’s what I want, too. To see her be happy.”

“Bruce, it’s okay to feel –“ 

She was about to say, “it’s okay to feel angry.” And if he were a normal human being, that would be true. But he wasn’t. And it wasn’t. Anger simmered at blood heat just below the surface of his skin. Like he’d told Cap when they went up against the Chitauri, his secret was that he was always angry. The difference was the line between Bruce Banner and the Other Guy grew thinner each time he transformed. He was aware of what the Other Guy did more and more, and when he was him, pieces of Bruce Banner bled through. He’d known what he was doing when he’d redirected the QuinJet after the they cleared the people off the flying city. He’d been the Other Guy, but Bruce Banner made the decision to leave.

And now Pepper Potts was trying to convince him to come back. To a world where enhanced humans were under greater scrutiny, where the Avengers had splintered apart in a spectacular fuckfest that had broken a goddamned airport. At least they’d evacuated first. It was still nothing like the takedown between him and Blonsky in Harlem. Or him and Tony in Johannesburg when he’d first encountered Wanda and her mindfuck powers. Innocents had been at risk both times. Innocents had been _put_ at risk both times.

“You can’t make this go away, Pep.”

“I can make it easier. Well, not me, but we can. Together. I’ve got teams working on this, working on how to adjust the Accords, how to challenge them.”

“It all still boils down to an enhanced kid got in my head and triggered the Hulk, and the Hulk nearly destroyed a populated urban area. How do you spin that, hmm? How do you make that go away? You can’t sacrifice Wanda –“

“No. But we can’t sacrifice you, either, Bruce. I’ll figure it out. We’ll figure it out.”

“Yeah. Okay. I trust you, Pep. You know I do. But don’t be surprised if the King of Wakanda doesn’t want a Hulk in his backyard. I’m safe where I am now. The world is safe because I’m where I am now. No one can touch me, and I can’t hurt anyone. Maybe it’s better to leave well enough alone.”

“Bruce. You should know by now I can’t do that. There’s a reason why Tony and I can’t quit each other.”

“Because you’re both batshit crazy?”

“You know me too well,” she answered, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

Trust. It didn’t come easily anymore. Not of others, not of himself. But he supposed he hadn’t given up on humanity, or his place in it, just yet. That was why he’d snagged the sat phone –after removing the GPS locator – off the QuinJet before he’d let it crash into the ocean. Pepper was the only person he’d contacted in the months since Ultron. To check on the others, to make sure no one came looking. 

He’d found some solace, some peace, in an abandoned Tibetan monastery. Within the palisade, he’d found the remains of a working garden, and he’d tended it back to life. He traded a bit with the locals, produce for things like cheese and milk. He’d managed to trade for a few chickens, so he had eggs every few days. All in all, it was a peaceful, quiet life. A satisfying life, really.

It was a life he would miss, to be honest.

But a chance to … what? Go home? Be reunited with his friends? Was that really in the cards, or was Pepper just wishing for something that could never happen? And if it did, just how much would he be risking for the illusion of a normal life?

Because no matter how he dressed it up, no matter how much his friends pretended it wasn’t so, the Hulk, the Other Guy, was always there. And they’d proved, beyond a doubt, that nothing could contain him. _Nothing_.

“I’ll contact you once I’ve arrived in Wakanda. I’ll speak with the king, see what he has to say. He’s allowed Steve and the others to stay in Wakanda. Given them sanctuary. He could do the same for you. Wakanda has no extradition treaties in place.”

“No one’s going to war to protect me, Pepper. Everyone would be better off if I just stayed where I am in that case.”

“It won’t come to that. We will find a diplomatic and legal solution.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay. I trust you, Pep.”

“Good. That’s all I can ask. I’ll talk with you soon. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah. Safe travels.”

With that, the call ended. He thumbed off the sat phone and set it back in the charging cradle. Powered by solar energy, it was the only form of technology he had. He’d been tempted to toss it away, but he’d held on to the lifeline, allowed himself closure with Betty, allowed her closure as well. He didn’t know how he’d deal with Natasha, but Pepper was probably right, the truth was probably better than just silence.

He looked around him at the clean lines of his Spartan cell, the simple cot, the basin and pitcher, the rough-hewn cabinet for his meager belongings, mostly clothes he’d traded for so he could work outside without shocking the neighbors.. It was enough. He was relatively at peace. But he couldn’t ignore the flutter of excitement at the idea of leaving.

He closed his eyes and breathed evenly. 

That was tomorrow. For now, he’d live in the calm of the moment.

Tomorrow would come in its own time, and with it, whatever the future held.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmmm. I'll bet you didn't see that coming, did you?
> 
> Sound off! And oh, please don't take the fact that I don't answer every comment as a lack of interest on my part. I envy writers who can write an intelligent, thought-provoking answer to every comment, while maintaining a high fiction output. I can't. I figure you'd rather have the story now, responses later. I answer when someone posts something that needs an answer, but otherwise, I revel in your comments, roll around in them, wrap myself up in them, and ward away the summer's heat in the cool balm of comments. :)


	19. Reset

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I ask the questions and try to figure out the answers ...
> 
> How is Sam coping with everything that's happened?
> 
> What's going on with our sexy nonagenarians?
> 
> What're Scott and Clint up to?
> 
> Just how did King T'Chaka come up with the idea of the Accords?
> 
> Is there a place for Bruce Banner in Wakanda?
> 
> Are the Avengers really as bad and careless as they've been portrayed?
> 
> And what about Pepper?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, now that I, Barnes is done, I'm rotating through this, Architecture, and Ohana. Each one has such a different flavor and atmosphere. This is definitely the most intense of the three, but I really love just working through the problem and coming up with a plausible answer/solution. But, sometimes you just have to sit back and look at what your fingers have typed, and realize that your subconscious got it right, and how come you never saw that before.
> 
> Pretty sure you can guess which reveal I'm talking about . Feel free to sound off in the comments!

Over the past several weeks following the memorial for T’Chaka and the formal installation of T’Challa as king, T’Challa and Steve had developed a habit of meeting in T’Challa’s office to analyze footage of Avengers missions, picking them apart from every possible angle, second guessing decisions, and determining errors or gaps in strategy. Sometimes some of the others joined them, sometimes some of T’Challa’s advisors joined them. Sometimes they moved to the conference room, and the room was quite full, and the discussions quite spirited. It became almost a sport, a game, for all to participate in, identifying the key moment when battle went their way, or the little slip-up that foreshadowed failure. Or the thing that was missing that could have ensured a better, cleaner victory.

But most of the time, it was just Steve and T’Challa in his office. T’Challa let it be known in his subtle, kingly fashion that he did not want an audience on a given day, and he and Steve would meet privately, quietly, to dissect and analyze.

It was an oddly liberating experience, and Steve said he found the exercise a valuable catharsis. He greeted each day with greater fervor, eager to delve into the “backseat quarterbacking” of the work he and the other Avengers had done.

T’Challa, on the other hand, began to seriously question the validity of the Accords. As he studied the challenges and responses by the Avengers, singly and together as a team, he began to recognize the fatal flaws of the Accords, and he was not hesitant to articulate them.

The Accords assumed that the Avengers did not care.

The Accords assumed that unenhanced humans had the right to tell enhanced humans what to do. To fight, to not fight. To die, if ordered to do so.

The Accords assumed the Avengers were the problem.

He quickly learned that not only did the Avengers care, they cared too much. He was learning that humans ordering enhanced individuals around was no different from slavery, from the Apartheid that had wracked South Africa, and whose poisonous tendrils had sickened so much of Africa and the world. He was definitely learning that the Avengers responded to dangerous situations. With the exception of Ultron, they generally did not create the danger, and even then, creating Ultron was in large part a response to what Hydra had already been developing.

The boogeymen of the Chitauri, of Hydra, of invisible terrorists around the world and lurking in the apartment next door, destabilized currencies and governments, litanies of hate … all of these things combined to create a nervous populace looking to blame something concrete for all the troubles of the world. And the Avengers had been a very public, very visible scapegoat.

For example, few people knew that the World Security Council had unleashed a nuclear bomb on Manhattan, and that Tony Stark had personally risked not only life and limb, but sanity by carrying the bomb into another dimension.

There had been no parade to welcome him home, no warriors to greet him, save the battered and barely standing members of the team that became known as the Avengers. They’d rolled up their sleeves and done what they could to bring normalcy back to New York City, helping to comb through debris and tons of rubble to locate survivors, help return children to their parents, and lift away the huge chunks of buildings that had toppled to the ground as the great Chitauri flying creatures had swum the air, heedless of buildings and people and boundaries.

T’Challa began to recognize a pattern among the Hulk’s actions as they watched the filmed rampages. The Hulk didn’t destroy simply to destroy. He destroyed the way a child did, a toddler, with hands too big and motor control not fine enough. The Hulk was not, in itself, destructive per se, but its size and strength made it the bull in the proverbial china shop. Yet, there seemed to be a true spark of intelligence in the beast’s eyes, leading T’Challa to believe that when the Hulk overtook Bruce Banner, something of Banner remained.

“We were exploring that before Sokovia,” Steve admitted when T’Challa brought up the subject to him during one of their sessions. “Nat had some luck with something we called ‘the lullaby,’ a series of touches and statements that seemed to focus Bruce enough so he could regain control, put the Hulk back in his box. He was a valuable member of the team, not just a beast of destruction.”

“Something happened to him between and Sokovia. Something horrible. The footage of the Hulk against Stark’s Hulkbuster is terrifying.”

“Wanda. Wanda happened to Bruce.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. The others don’t really get it, y’know? Why Bruce left. The whole world saw the thing he hates the most, the Hulk, completely out of control. And the only mitigating factor there is that someone fucked with his head – he wasn’t himself, he wasn’t in control, any more than Buck was in control when Hydra brainwashed him. But the someone who did that is a kid who was experimented on by Hydra. He can’t defend himself without condemning her.”

“He was fond of Wanda.”

“He barely knew her. But he’s not the kind of person to throw someone else under the bus. He’s got so much guilt he’s carrying, he’s gonna choke on it someday.”

“He sounds like he is a good man in a bad situation.”

Steve nodded gravely. “I got a lot of respect for Bruce Banner. He and Nat … well, she told him she liked him, but … the Hulk doesn’t just come out when he’s angry. If his heart rate is elevated to a certain point in any way, the transformation begins. So he, ah, he can’t, um –“

“I see. I would like to meet this Dr. Banner.”

Steve arched an eyebrow and smiled wanly at T’Challa. “To meet him or to contain him?”

T’Challa sat back in his chair and considered Steve for a long moment. “To meet him. By all accounts, he has a brilliant mind. He could perhaps find a home here in Wakanda.”

“You’d be willing? To give him sanctuary, that is? You’re starting to amass quite the collection of enhanced individuals. The rest of the world might see that as a threat.”

“Perhaps. And perhaps it is time for Wakanda to stand up for itself. When Secretary Ross approached my father about drafting the Accords, my father was so proud to be recognized, to have an opportunity to speak for the men and women we lost in Lagos, to help Wakanda take its place on the world stage –“

“Wait. Wait a minute. Secretary Ross approached your father about the Accords?”

“Yes. You did not know this? Yes, Secretary Ross visited my father in person, proposed that if the Accords were drafted by the monarch of the nation whose peace delegation was killed by the ‘negligence of the Avengers,’ it would go a long way to encourage other countries to sign on.”

“That sonovabitch.”

“I take it this is both surprising and unwelcome news.”

“Ross made it seem like the Accords were something forced on him from the world community. He never let on he had a hand in drafting them.”

“Quite a large hand, yes.”

“So he manipulated events to put us under UN control. But why?”

“You have not read the Accords in their entirety, have you, Steve? When the panel is finally formed, Secretary Ross will have a place on it. The leader of the panel will be elected from within the panel. It is possible he could be in charge of the panel.”

Steve’s face grew pale as he drew back slowly, an awful realization coming upon him. “Putting him in command of the world’s enhanced.”

T’Challa knew that he gasped slightly, but he tilted his head questioningly as he lead forward toward Steve’s retreating posture. “He is your Secretary of State.”

“He’s the man responsible for Bruce Banner becoming the Hulk. Bruce was working on his project to recreate the super soldier serum when Bruce was exposed to gamma radiation that turned him into the Hulk. Bruce told me that Ross tried to use Bruce to make an army of Hulks. This explains so much. Ross doesn’t intend for the world to be protected from the enhanced – he plans to use the enhanced to control the world.”

&&&

“Fuck, man, get out of my room,” Sam Wilson swore at the figure perched like a bird of prey on top of the long glass-topped table at the floor to ceiling windows of his room. Outside, the otherworldly landscape of Wakanda was bathed in moonlight and cast in shadow. 

One of those shadows seemed to extrude Barnes as he straightened his legs and returned them to the floor. He stood fluidly, and looked down on Sam where he sat up on the side of his bed, the tremors from his nightmare still percolating through his blood, making his body shake. Sweat pooled between his shoulder blades, on the back of his neck, and made him shiver.

Barnes went to the mini-fridge and pulled out a bottle of water, held it up to catch some of the light, and when Sam nodded, tossed it underhand to him. Sam caught it, nodded his thanks. The cold water felt like balm to his parched throat. Satisfied, Barnes spoke then. “You may have the others fooled, but I hear you, you know. Night terrors, the shakes. Thought you were supposed to be some kinda counselor for soldiers comin’ home – who counsels _you_?”

Sam took another swig of his water, dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. “Fuck you, Barnes. Just … fuck you.”

“No thanks. I’m taken, I think,” Barnes replied, settling against the table and leaning back on his one hand. He was dressed in a black tank top and boxers, barefoot. The moonlight gleamed across the remaining plates of his metal shoulder. Not for the first time, Sam wondered how that must feel, if it did feel at all.

But fuck if he was gonna admit it. Instead, he practiced his sneer on Barnes. “Oh, don’t give me that sad gay boy shit. And whaddya mean, _you think_? Cap’s had it bad for you since the year zero, don’t you doubt it for a second. Shit, that man was ready to topple whole governments to get your sorry white ass home to him.” He shook his head and took another pull at the bottle. Nearing the bottom, but he didn’t feel like his legs were ready to hold him up to get far enough to the fridge. Goddamned rubber knees.

Chuckling softly, Barnes looked up at the ceiling for a moment. “I … wow. I mean, we’re takin’ it slow, y’know? It’s all new for both of us. And not gay. I’m … some other word,” he shook his head.

“Annoying?” Sam scrunched the bottle into a compact ball. Barnes’s gaze flicked to it, and then he was back at the fridge, pulling out another bottle. He tossed it to Sam, who again nodded his thanks – like hell was he saying thank you to Steve’s boytoy at fuck all in the morning – and then he grabbed one for himself. He opened the bottle the same time Sam opened his, and tilted his head back to take a long draught of the cool water. 

This time, the light played along the stretch of his neck, along his adam’s apple working up and down as he drank, along the corded muscle of his neck, over the stump. He lowered the bottle and recapped it, settling back against the table.

“Bisexual,” he said at last. “I’m bisexual. So is Steve. Apparently that’s a thing now. And we’re allowed. Which, y’know, is also a thing. No jail time, no beatings. At least not officially.”

“Yeah, nothin’s ‘official’ about oppression. Still happens, though. So what – you’re gonna do a threesome? If you’re lookin’ at Natasha, hands off – now that Banner’s out of the picture I’m plannin’ to make my move.” And Sam realized that he kind of meant that – he’d always been attracted to Natasha, but Steve had kept him busy with his wild Bucky hunt, and then Natasha kind of gravitated to Banner, then there was the whole thing with Ultron, and for a while after that, it just made sense to give Natasha space. But everything that happened recently just served to remind him of how short life can be, how ephemeral freedom could be. And he didn’t want to wait any longer. He kinda hoped that girl would find her way back to Wakanda sometime soon. ‘Cos he was planning to woo the everloving heck out of her.

“Not Natasha, not anybody. Just … I still like dames – _women_ ,” he corrected himself with an eye roll. “And so does Steve. Just, right now, we like each other better.”

“Not right now. Forever, dude. You break that man’s heart, I’mma … well, I’m gonna make sure you’re hurtin’ too. _More_.”

“Trust me, if anything happened to break us up, he’s not the only one who’d be hurting. I’m makin’ progress stitching together my memory, but I got a long way to go, don’t know if I’m ever gonna get there. There’s only one thing I know for sure, and that’s how much I love Steve Rogers. And not just like that. I love him as my brother, my best friend, my family. I’d be satisfied with any one of those things. To have ‘em all, _and_ this? I dunno, Wilson. Pretty sure I’m overdrawn in the luck department.”

“Pretty sure you’re due a whole fuckton of luck, Barnes. Steve, too.”

“Yeah, so, you ready to talk yet?”

“What? I … ah, fuck.”

“C’mon, man, you can’t keep it bottled up forever. It’s fuckin’ with you. I see what’s happenin’ – you’re not sleepin’, your appetite’s shit, your concentration is off. Whatever it is, it’s killin’ you.”

“It’s Rhodes.”

“Stark’s pal. You got the hots for him?” 

“No, it isn’t like that,” Sam was quick to correct. “No, I’m worried about him. When he got hit … when he fell out of the sky … Steve ever tell you about my wingman?”

Barnes shook his head. Of course Steve didn’t tell him about Riley. Not because he was too busy with his tongue down Barnes’s throat, but because it would be a breach of Sam’s privacy.

“Served two tours in Afghanistan. Pararescue with an earlier version of the wings. Best friend was also my wingman, Riley. We’d’a done anything for each other. Kinda like you and Steve but without the gay, y’know? Ah fuck, maybe with the gay, I dunno. We never talked about it, never tried anything. ‘Don’t ask don’t tell’ was still in effect, so I don’t think either of us ever really thought about it. But like you, he was my friend, my brother, my family. Loved him more than life itself, no shit. He was hit with an RPG, fell like a rock, dead before he hit the ground. Watchin’ Rhodes get hit by Vision, dropping dead stick … it was like reliving Riley’s death all over again.”

“But Rhodes didn’t die.”

“He didn’t walk away, either. May never walk again. It just … I thought I dealt with it, y’know? Thought I put it behind me. But every night, I close my eyes, and I can see it happening like it was now. Like if I close my eyes, I’m back here in the desert, watching my best friend die over and over again.”

“That sucks.”

“That sucks. That sucks? That’s the best you can come up with?”

“Not a counselor, counselor. I mean, I could tell you that Riley wouldn’t want you to dwell on it. I could tell you that any friend of Stark’s gonna get the best medical treatment nobody’s seen yet. His Dad was the same way. Guess who made my arm, huh?”

“Stark’s Dad?”

“I found out later it was stolen from Howard’s stash. Wasn’t ready to go into production yet because the body had to have too much surgical reinforcement before it was practical to install. Hydra didn’t care. Was no use to them with only one arm, so they did all kinds of surgeries on me to graft metal to my skeleton.” He waved at his left side. “Shoulder, chest, back, down to the floating ribs. Vibranium infused bone, some reinforcing plates. Lemme tell you, having liquid metal pumped into your fuckin’ bones … it don’t just tickle.”

“Shit.”

“But Howard’s arm worked. Howard was way ahead of his time. And his son’s no different, if what I’ve read about him is true.”

“And he won’t give up on Rhodes. He’s like Tony’s other half. Well, the other half that’s known him his whole life. Banner’s like his science other half. And Pepper … well, she _was_ the love of his life.”

“Out of the picture?”

“A while now, apparently.”

“Might explain a lot.”

“Yeah. No grounding influences. He got so spun up, without someone to help, he couldn’t spin down.”

“Yeah. But anyway, I think Rhodes is in good hands. But your friend … I am sorry. I know it’s not the same, but I do know what it feels like to lose somebody important to you. I got lucky, but it doesn’t mean I didn’t experience a big fuckin’ loss. I did, I lost everyone who meant anything to me other than Steve. My Mom, my Dad, all my sisters. They’re all gone now. I remember bits and pieces about them, not a lot, but enough to know it hurts. I don’t honestly know I can say it gets easier. It haunts you less often, maybe. It … lets up, after a while. It stops pushing at you, I guess.”

“Yeah, yeah I’ve been through that. Seein’ Rhodes … just brought it all back, like it happened right then. If we were stateside, I’d go visit his Mom, talk about it with her. Tell funny stories and share old pictures. But I can’t, I can’t do that.”

“What about that video chat stuff?” 

“Guess I could. I’ve Skyped her before. I just don’t know if it’s gonna get her in trouble, talkin’ t’me. I’m a fugitive after all.”

“Not stopping Barton or Lang. They’ve been doing the Clint and Scott Show for their kids the past week or so. Takin’ the kids on safari through the wonder of the internet. Some of it’s actually pretty good.”

“Yeah, maybe. Maybe that would help. I could contact my folks, too. I really miss ‘em.”

“Thinkin’ you need to do something, too. Not just sit around waiting for the world to figure out you’re not some dangerous criminal.”

“Steve and the King –“

“Yeah, yeah, they’re working on overturning the Accords. That’s gonna take time. Barton and Lang have their nature videos for the kids. Wanda is still practicing the fuck out of her magic. I’ve been doing PT and memory therapy. You need something to do, too.”

“Tellin’ me to get a hobby, Barnes?”

“Tellin’ you you ain’t happy sittin’ on your ass. So do somethin’ about it.”

“Yeah, okay. Now how’s about you get your ass outta my bedroom? Man wants to sleep, and he gets visited by the supersoldier fairy –“ Sam caught himself and gasped over his stupid comment, sputtering apologies, but Bucky just laughed out loud.

“Time was, a word like that could get a man killed. I was afraid that’s what I was, the way I felt about Steve. Didn’t matter how many dames I had on my arm, how many times I made time with one or the other of ‘em. I always looked forward to goin’ home to Steve. So, yeah, I’ll be your supersoldier fairy. Just don’t expect me to wear a fuckin’ tutu. Had enough of stupid costumes to last a coupla lifetimes. Now, go to sleep, Wilson. We got work to do, startin’ tomorrow.”

Wait. _What_?

&&&

When T’Challa entered his office the next day, Steve was already there, silently bent over something he was reading. “Good morning,” T’Challa greeted, but Steve did not look up immediately. Instead, he chewed absently at the corner of his thumb nail while he continued to focus solely on that document in his hand.

T’Challa recognized it as a copy of the Accords. Ah. Captain America was doing his homework.

Finally Steve looked up and smiled apologetically. “Riveting,” he said, folding down the corner of the page before closing the bound document. “There wasn’t time to read the entire thing before I had to leave for Peggy’s funeral. I did read some of it, enough to know that it made me uncomfortable, that it felt like just shifting responsibility to people who weren’t equipped for it. Then everything happened so fast, and just wouldn’t let up …”

“You have read about the formation of the panel?”

“Yeah. You’re absolutely right, Ross could maneuver himself into being in control. This is worse than SHIELD, worse than Hydra.”

“Then we must redouble our efforts to identify ways to modify the Accords and plan our strategy on how we will convince the international community this is necessary.”

“I think I can help with that,” a firm female voice announced, and both T’Challa and Steve Rogers turned in search of the source of the voice.

“Pepper,” Steve greeted, rising to come around to her and kiss her gently on the cheek. “What are you doing here? Is …?”

“Tony’s back in New York, working through Howard’s notes. He’s not ready, Steve, but I think he’s getting there. He’s getting help,” she added with a flash of a smile. “That’s … that’s good. I’m really glad,” Steve breathed, a small smile forming on his face. “Ah, sorry, let me introduce you –“

“Ms. Potts. It is a pleasure. I am gratified that you have made the journey to meet with us in person,” T’Challa greeted formally, and bowed as he extended his hand to her.

“Pepper. And I’m grateful you were able to fit me in. We’ve discovered quite a lot, Tony and Stark Industries both, and I think it’s time we pooled resources. I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” she added with a cheeky smile, holding up a thumb drive like it was the trophy to end all trophies.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now the threads are starting to weave together.
> 
> What do you think it going to happen next? Sound off!


	20. Retcon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I explore the questions of why did Natasha ask if Bucky recognized her, when is she coming back to Wakanda (answer: now - she stowed away with Pepper), and what kind of history is there between the Black Widow and the Winter Solder? And, how does that affect Bucky's burgeoning relationship with Steve?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And I'm back! Well, I never really left, just juggling other stories, work, art, work, getting my house in order, work ... 
> 
> This chapter has been rattling around in my head now for weeks, gradually working out the kinks until I was finally able to write it. I actually kind of like it. It's an important chapter leading up to decisions that are yet to be made.

He was seated in a comfortable chair, reading a book, his young face relaxed, his dark hair pulled back in a messy bun, the space where his left arm should be empty and capped off with a soft-looking sock or something. He looked very different from the last time she’d seen him, anxious and tense and ready for a fight as he and Steve had pushed their way through to take the QuinJet from Germany to Siberia. She knew T’Challa had granted him asylum in Wakanda along with the others, but as she observed him quietly, she was surprised to see the Soldier had dropped away, revealing a man she only knew from stories and old films.

Behind him stretched the massive windows of the overlook, the jungle in all its myriad forms breathed and seethed beyond the glass. Sunlight filtered through the broad-fronded leaves, dappling the floor and limning his profile in golden light.

He was, in a word, beautiful.

She’d always thought so.

She stood in the shadow of the archway, watching in that silent and invisible way she had, arms crossing her chest, head tilted, eyes narrowed appraisingly. She contained the urge to run to him, grab him by the shoulders and demand to know –

“I’m not him,” he said quietly and quite suddenly, not lifting his eyes from the book in his hands.

Of course he’d noted her presence. He was, after all, the mentor who’d taught her to become one with the world around her, absorbing its energy to disappear into it, invisible and unnoticed. “And who would that be?” she asked with a coquettish grin, pushing away from the wall and moving smoothly into the room.

“Someone you loved,” he answered softly, but his voice carried easily to her ears, ears that had been waiting to hear this voice for more years than she cared to count.

“Love is for children,” she countered easily, but internally, she registered the blip in her heart beat, the thudding against her chest wall, willed it to normalcy, consciously controlling her pulse, her heart rate.

“You were a child.”

“I was never a child.”

“Perhaps not.” He paused, drawing a breath, then closed his book carefully and set it aside before he lifted his face to turn and look directly at her. “I’m not him.”

“You are.”

“No. I was never him.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I don’t love you.”

“I told you, love is for children.”

“But you remember love.”

“Maybe. What do you remember?”

“I remember he loved you.”

“How could you remember if you’re not him?”

“I don’t love you.”

She was silent then, merely watching him expressionlessly. 

“I never loved you.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I’m not him.”

“Did he love me?”

He was silent for a long moment. Her attention was so focused on his reaction she didn’t notice someone else coming into the room.

“Answer the lady, Buck.”

She turned slowly to face Steve Rogers. “Hey, there, Cap,” she greeted with a grin.

“Not Cap anymore. Just Steve. There’s a question on the table here. Gonna give an answer, Buck?” he asked, pushing his way aggressively into the room. She frowned, feeling like she was off her game, off-center. She’d missed Steve’s entrance, a man for whom stealth was a concept, not a lifestyle. And now she felt like she was missing something important in the air that thickened around her with growing tension.

“I’m not him.”

“Maybe we need to talk privately –“

“I got no secrets from Steve,” Bucky interrupted her, standing up and walking to the window.

“You didn’t tell me you knew the Winter Soldier, Nat,” Steve said, turning to look at Nat critically.

“I didn’t know he was the Winter Soldier at the time. I knew him as Jakov. The American. He was one of my instructors in the Red Room.”

“But you knew that Jakov was James Buchanan Barnes,” Steve countered with an edge of threat in his voice. She knew she was treading dangerous territory now – Steve’s protective streak where Barnes was concerned had already crossed the line to unreasonable, and now she felt herself in the crosshairs of that impetus.

“I suspected. I didn’t know for sure until I recognized him in Berlin. You have to admit, it’s all a little far-fetched. World War II hero turned Soviet spymaster turned greatest assassin in history turned Cap’s boyhood friend,” she said, regretting the words before they’d passed her lips, not blaming Steve for the sharp look he gave her. She was sorry for the look of deep hurt on his face, though. Steve was one of the good guys, one of the few people she honestly thought of as a friend. She didn’t know why she felt the need to lash out at him.

Except she was beginning to suspect, as Steve shifted closer to Barnes, to Jakov, to the Soldier. It was like there was gravity between them, drawing them closer into concentric orbits.

“Buck?” he asked, turning away from her, effectively rendering her beneath his notice. She was going to have to work hard to overcome the hurt, the mistrust, she’d just injected into their relationship. At a cellular level, she knew this was worse than taking Stark’s side in the battle over the Accords. She could atone for that by helping to fix it. Insulting Bucky Barnes to Steve Rogers? She could kick herself for the stupidity.

Barnes drew a deep breath through his nose, held it, let it go with a sigh. “The Soldier was deployed to train the little girls of the Red Room. More than once over the course of a number of years. He was a good teacher. Effective. Relentless. When the Soldier started to become … difficult … he’d be sent back to cryo. I remember there was a girl one year named Natalia. She was kind to the Soldier. He responded to that.”

“And that’s all,” Steve said flatly.

Barnes turned from the window and stared directly into Steve’s eyes, his expression sad, haunted. “There was no kindness in the Soldier’s life. It was an anomaly. Then there was the chair. And cryo again.”

She hadn’t known. They took her from him, then. She’d always wondered. They left her her memories, but took away her future. For him, they’d taken away his past, his present, and his future. She stumbled forward a couple of steps before she realized she’d moved. He compromised her in ways no one else could. He’d known her before, before the graduation, before the neutering, before she’d been unleashed onto the world, a killing machine with a doll’s face. “Do you remember me? Do you remember us?”

Steve flinched at the reality behind the question, and she filed that away to examine later. Why would he care? But Barnes looked at her then, his expression drained and exhausted. He shook his head, not in denial, but as though he were shaking loose the cobwebs formed over his memories. “I remember you, that time like something I saw at the pictures. I don’t remember the feelings. I don’t remember the thoughts. They burned them out of him. I’m not him. I can never be him for you.”

“I see.”

Barnes moved across the room to stand by Steve, fingers seeking out Steve’s as the two men’s hands twined together. She felt her eyebrows rise involuntarily as her heart stuttered, a painful twist as something inside her died a little, and cursed herself for her lack of control. 

So. That was the truth Steve had never shared. The pain no one had been able to touch. Steve turned toward Barnes and put his hand on the back of his neck, drawing him closer to rest their foreheads together for the space of a breath, then broke apart. He fell into an almost parade rest then, eyebrow arched to challenge her.

She smiled. Her heart was breaking, but she smiled. Because she saw in his eyes the joy she’d never seen before. Happiness. She hadn’t realized until that moment just how sad, how alone, how deeply wounded Steve had been all this time. Not until Barnes came back and helped make him whole again.

“Y’couldn’t give a girl a break and let me know? There were plenty of guys who would’ve loved the chance to date you –“

“Captain America, maybe. Not Steve Rogers. And besides, none of them woulda been Buck.”

“No, but – “

“Nat, no. It’s not necessary now, anyway –“

“You’re telling me you’re together. Like, together, together.”

“Huh. Looks like you’re not the only one who’s smooth around here, Stevie,” Barnes teased, grinning at Steve. Steve returned a sheepish smile. She could guess that Steve’s declarations lacked finesse. Can’t punch your way to romance. Well, not usually, anyway.

“Smooth, eh? So, boys.”

“So, bi.”

“Who’d’a thought?”

&&&

After Natasha left the overlook, to check on the others and “see if Clint had shot his foot off yet,” Steve and Bucky were left alone to face the reality of Bucky’s tenure with the Red Room.

Steve hauled off and socked Bucky straight in the jaw, sending him reeling back across the room to land on his ass and skid across the floor.

“What the fuck, Steve?” he protested, shifting his jaw back and forth to test for breaks. He shook his head and sprung back to his feet.

“What the fuck, Buck? You can tell her that you’re not the person she remembers, you don’t remember his feelings or his memories, and that makes you not him. But when it comes to the Winter Soldier, you’re willing to take responsibility for everything Hydra made you do?” 

“I’m not him, he wasn’t real, Steve. The instructor of the Red Room, the American – Jakov? He was a made up personality they instructed the Soldier to be when he was thawed out. He was the result of orders, Steve. He wasn’t real.”

“That’s bullshit, and you know it. How is that any different from fucking programming burned into your goddamned brain?”

“Because I was always a killer, Steve.”

“You were always a teacher, Buck. I remember you with your sisters. How you taught Gracie how to spell, and Becs how to count. And Annie how to play the piano. And they all learned to dance with their big brother. You always had that in you, Buck. So, again, tell me how it’s different. How can you deny one and be willing to die for the other?”

“Because people died, Steve. People died at my hands. I watched them die, watched the light fade in their eyes. I bathed in fucking blood, Steve. And I was a killer before they took me. I was a killer long before that. Hydra knew the monster was inside me, they just let it out.”

“In the War, it was your job. You kept us safe, Buck. The Howlies and me. You took out the threat so we could do the job. And don’t think you’re the only killer in this room, Buck. I’ve killed more than my share, too. Maybe even more than you.”

“Then how do you sleep at night, huh? If you killed that many? How do you live with it?”

“Sometimes I’m not sure I do. But I gotta think that the world’s a better place for most, that I make a difference in other ways, that the scales are balanced – “

“That’s nice if you can do that. The people I killed? They were the ones who were supposed to make the difference. The ones who were supposed to make the world a better place. Hydra took them out to make the world more chaotic, to make it need Hydra. How do I sleep with that, huh?”

“By remembering what it took for them to make you do those things, Buck. They had to fry your brain, electrocute it, brainwash you, torture you – you think you gave in easy? You fought, and they had to work so hard to force you to do their dirty work. Over and over again. It didn’t take, not the first time, not the last time. Because you’re a good man, Bucky Barnes. You’re a moral man. Think about how you feel right now, the sorrow, the regret – a monster wouldn’t feel those things. But you do. Because you’re a good man. And if you can convince yourself that you’re not the man who taught Nat, who … what? Loved her? Then you can convince yourself you’re not the man who did those things for Hydra. They used you. You’re a victim, Buck. But you survived. You’re here, with me. The best revenge is living your life, flipping a giant-sized fuck you to Hydra by being happy. With me. Can we try that, to be happy? Together?” 

Bucky stood staring at Steve, his eyes intense, his jaw – just starting to bruise – set. His one fist clenched at his side as his gaze burned through Steve’s defenses.

Then they were crashing together, lips, teeth, hands, bruising, crushing. Inelegant and urgent. Primal.

“Promise me one thing,” Bucky breathed against Steve’s lips as he tilted his face to plunge into another desperate kiss.

“Anything, anything you want, Buck,” Steve breathed back, lost in the sensation.

“Yeah? Touch me,” Bucky demanded breathlessly, and suddenly Steve pulled back, his posture stiff and uncertain. “Steve?” Bucky prompted, trying to chase Steve’s lips, but Steve took a step back.

“Buck, are you sure? I mean, I didn’t want to push, I wanted to give you time, space – I –“

“I’m getting fuckin’ blue balls here, Stevie. Gettin’ kinda tired of having to sneak into the head to rub one out after you fall asleep. I _want_ you to touch me. I want to touch _you_. I want us to touch each other. I don’t need time, space, or any other psychobabble bullshit. I just need _you_. I need to love you. In every possible way. Can we try _that_? Huh? Together?” At the look of hesitance on Steve’s face, Bucky straightened and took an involuntary step backward. “Unless that’s not what you want. I mean, I thought you did. Y’know if you don’t want sex, I get it, I know there are people like that. I just need to know – mmmph!” his words were cut off by Steve surging across the space between them to grab Bucky by the face and haul him into a kiss so intense, it took his breath away.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, comments not only give me life, they let me know when I'm doing something right, or I've gone too far off the reservation. Would love to know what you think of this chapter, this weaving of yet another MCU thread into the whole.


	21. Reappraisal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I asked myself how could Natasha not know that Bucky was Jakov? And what happened next?
> 
> And has anyone wondered how Bucky could have gotten bigger, while on the run? I'd've expected him to be undernourished, thinner than he was while in the clutches of Hydra. I don't answer that question here, but I do lay the groundwork. 'Cos I got ideas ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a short chapter, but one I actually like a lot. It leads to new tremors in the force ...

She pressed the heel of her hand against her eyes, flattening her back against the wall outside the overlook, willing her emotions back into their crypt, commanding her heart to refreeze and slow down. 

Jakov, the American, was Barnes, Steve Rogers’s bestest friend. Worse, the love of his frigging life. Natasha felt exceptionally compromised. She hadn’t seen that coming. She knew that Barnes meant a lot to Steve, but she hadn’t known _that_.

How the fuck had she missed _that_?

She’d known that Bucky Barnes was the Winter Soldier. That had been clear from the Hydra data dump, and the file she’d recovered from Kiev. Steve’s own recognition. But somehow, she hadn’t put it together that the Winter Soldier was also the American, Jakov, her teacher, her lover, in the Red Room. Hadn’t made the connection that the man who shot his target right through her body had also been the man to bring her body to unimaginable heights. He’d always worn a mask, a formed thing that covered his upper face and effectively changed his features enough that even she hadn’t been able to match Jakov to Barnes until Leipzig. It had been the expression on his face when he’d looked to Steve that had revealed the man she’d loved.

The American, Jakov, had been able to show emotion. He could smile, laugh, even sing a song. Kiss a girl and make her cry. Make her feel special, make her feel loved.

These were not activities associated with the Winter Soldier, however.

But if Barnes was telling the truth, the man she’d loved had never existed, and the affair that had breathed life into her when she’d thought the Red Room had burned it out had simply been a carrot to make Natalia work harder. She wondered now if it hadn’t been deliberate, a personality designed just for her, their best pupil. A challenge, a test she’d been unaware of. Had she passed, she wondered? Or was the price of failure punishment for Jakov? Obliteration? That they’d burned her out of his memory … that hurt. Not a day had gone by since then where she wasn’t in some way reminded of him. He had, after all, molded her, trained her, inspired her. There were many memories she couldn’t trust, implanted by the Red Room to give her a history that didn’t exist. But she’d never distrusted her memories of Jakov, the first man to whom she’d given her heart. 

And now he’d disavowed her.

But the light in Steve Rogers’s eyes when he looked at Bucky Barnes … well, some things made the loss and the hurt worthwhile. She’d need a moment to process it all, but seeing Cap, Steve, genuinely happy? Might be worth the price of admission after all.

And wasn’t that just a kick in the head. Maybe there was hope for her yet –

“What the actual fuck?” she heard Sam Wilson practically squeal not ten feet away down the corridor at the doorway to the overlook. “You put that away right now. No, now. Hands, everybody raise their hands! Nobody wants to see that! Goddammit, Cap, isn’t it enough that you make every man feel inadequate as it is, y’gotta go swingin’ that _thing_ around? And you, Barnes, get your goddamned hand outta wherever it is, I don’t wanna know! Nobody wants to see gnarly old white man ass hangin’ out all over. Y’gotta room – use it! Goddammit, I’m gonna have to bleach my eyes and my brain to get rid of that image. You’ve scarred me for life! Don’t you ‘sorry, Sam’ me, Mr. I’m a World War II virgin! And you, Barnes, stop that fuckin’ giggling! You’re a grown ass man, y’got no business giggling like that. Oh, fuck this, I’m leavin’ now – there better not be any naked stuff going on when I get back!”

Well, that was unexpected. Natasha couldn’t help the giggle of her own that bubbled up her throat and burst out of her mouth.

“Well, hello there, Miss Natasha,” Sam greeted, his voice suave and smooth, and nothing like the shrieking freak out of only a moment ago.

“Well, hey there, Sam. Got an eyeful, huh?”

“And then some. Might be dealing with some issues of inadequacy after seeing that. Damn, son!” he shook his whole body.

Natasha frowned at him a second, thinking back to her affair with Jakov. She didn’t remember him being particularly … big. He hadn’t been her first – the Red Room had been training her in seduction for years by then – but he had been her most important up until that point. Come to think of it, Barnes seemed … thicker than she remembered Jakov being. Like his muscles were more developed, more powerful. Like there was more of him, somehow. That didn’t make sense. He’d been on the run from Hydra for two years. She would have expected to see him be more … emaciated. Not built like a fucking truck.

Hah. She was standing in a Wakandan corridor talking to Sam Wilson while Captain America and the Winter Soldier just got caught with their pants literally down, and she’s wondering about sense.

Clearly they’ve all gone down the rabbit hole, and Alice had drunk the wrong vial.  
“That happen often?” she nodded her head back to the overlook.

“First time for everything, unfortunately. They’ve been together a coupla weeks now. They’re still figuring themselves out. But the naked sexy times? They can figure that out in their own apartment, for fuck’s sake. Everybody uses that room. ‘M’gonna have t’find some goddamned Lysol now before I use it again.”

“Oh, Sam, they didn’t have time to do much. I was only out here a couple of minutes.”

“Yeah, why is that? Steve know you’re here?”

“Yes. I saw him and Barnes before they started to get freaky. I came in with Pepper.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“And what upset you? Don’t tell me nothing, I can see you’ve been crying. And I, my lady, am very good at listening. You might even say I’m a professional.”

Nat looked at him and smiled, truly smiled. She’d kept things to herself for far too long. Maybe it was time to let someone in.

So she did.

There really was a first time for everything.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise you, I am not abandoning any of my stories! Have lots of thoughts about this one, still churning away at On the Air, hoping to post more chapters of It Takes a Village, Ohana, etc. Subscribe to my writer page so you're alerted when I post a new chapter or a new work - there's lots in the pipeline.
> 
> So, what did you think? I love Sam ... :)


	22. Reboot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which I ask questions about ...
> 
> ... the perception of the Avengers - why did no one point out their efforts to help clean up New York City after the Chitauri? Or that Steve was basically in a coma after Washington, DC? 
> 
> ... how come Bucky isn't skin and bones when he's found in Romania? It's not like he was living large. How did he get even beefier after the helicarriers were destroyed?
> 
> ... and more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Parts of this chapter hit me like a freight train. Which I can hear in the distance, blowing its horn. It's 5:08 a.m. here - what the hell?
> 
> But seriously, that's what happens sometimes - images and dialogue just form and write themselves in my head, or even better, I see it playing out in my head so clearly, it's like watching a movie. And then I'm dashing to capture it before it dissipates. I like this chapter - I hope you do too.

“I agree. We should pool resources. Both of our teams have made great strides, but together, if we prioritize the work, divide it between us, leverage our resources –“

“That’s exactly what I was hoping for. That’s what Stark Industries decrypted over the past few weeks. The work is going faster as we develop decryption methods. The algorithm is on the drive.”

“We too have developed decryption techniques – perhaps it would be useful to run a test with the two, to see which is more effective, faster. Perhaps an amalgam of the two might speed the work even further.”

“That would be … that would be great, your highness,” Pepper agreed, thrilled and a little awestruck. She dealt with heads of state on the regular, but there was something unsettling about the newly crowned king of Wakanda, a sense of otherworldliness that set her off her game.

“T’Challa, please. We have much to do, and not much time to do it in. I welcome you as a partner in the effort. You heard Captain Rogers and I discussing Secretary Ross.”

“You think he manipulated events to his advantage. I agree totally. The accusations themselves are ridiculous – the Avengers came together because of the threat to New York City. They repelled an alien army. Tony carried a nuclear warhead – launched by the World Security Council to contain the threat to New York – through a wormhole. They worked tirelessly for weeks, assisting with the reconstruction.”

“Yes. I am aware. It is easy to forget the true aftermath in the face of the splashy pictures and new bites. And the World Security Council and Hydra were responsible for the mess in Washington, DC. My people recently finished decrypting the “cross out list” of Hydra. You and I would never have had the opportunity to meet had the helicarriers launched and taken aim as planned. Curiously, we have yet to find Secretary Ross on the list.”

“Do you suspect he’s Hydra?”

“Hydra, or Hydra did not perceive him to be a threat. Perhaps because his goals align with theirs. We also found the classified report on the Hulk and Harlem. And the Abomination. A creature that has gone missing since the fall of SHIELD. A creature that Ross helped create.”

“I don’t trust him. If I’d been on hand when all this started, I would have been able to tell that Tony was compromised when he didn’t stand up to Ross. He hates the man, and yet –“

“It appeared he collaborated willingly. That was, I believe, his guilt talking. He is a man in pain. Feeling tremendous guilt, yet also tremendous grief. It is a crippling combination if you let it be. I know this myself,” T’Challa told her solemnly.

“I am sorry for your loss. It cannot be easy to lose your father and suddenly find yourself thrust into the global spotlight.”

T’Challa smiled brittlely. “I was educated in England and America, and I have traveled the world, unlike most of my people. My experience of cultures other than Wakanda, while not vast, at least prepares me in some way to enter this brave new world. But there is nothing that can prepare one for an interview with Ms. Christine Eberhardt,” he shuddered with a smile.

“Well, there’s where you’re wrong, T’Challa. I’ve been handling Christine for years. And I have an entire PR and Legal department who are well-versed in media politics. They are also at your disposal.”

“Is this something that might arouse questions of ethics, Pepper?”

“Perhaps. We’ll do it through the Potts Foundation, not Stark Industries. And I’ll open it up to the team to see if anyone is interested in relocating to Wakanda.”

“It appears that we are a good match, Pepper. I welcome your technical assistance, and your tutelage. Let us turn this over to my decryption team to begin analyzing, and perhaps I could interest you in a traditional Wakandan luncheon. I know of some people I suspect you would like to see?”

“I’d like to check on the kids, yes. Natasha’s gone ahead.”

“Ah, Ms. Romanoff. A formidable warrior. She has served our cause well.”

“Yes, I believe she has. And I think some rest could do her some good, although she’d be the last to admit it,” Pepper chuckled.

“That sounds like Ms. Romanoff,” T’Challa agreed regally, inclining his head and offering his arm to Pepper. “If you please?”

“I do please,” she replied with a broad grin, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

&&&

“Wow, that’s rough,” Sam commiserated calmly after Natasha had revealed her secret. They’d found another room overlooking the jungle tucked away in a quiet corner of the compound, and they’d commandeered it so Natasha could talk, and Sam could listen. “This whole situation is rough. On everybody. So how is it you’re not at the compound?”

“If you ask Tony Stark, I defected. I only sided with him because that’s the way I saw us staying together. The Avengers. Our family. So really, I might as well mend my fences with the rest of my family. And T’Challa made it clear I would be granted asylum here – there are much worse places to lay low and recharge. Gotta get back my mojo – I miscalculated this whole situation, Sam. I’ve lost my edge.”

“No one could have anticipated Barnes. Or Zemo.”

“Well, Barnes was a wild card all along, just none of us knew exactly where he fit in. So, Cap swings for the boys.” She shook her head in wonder once more.

“Pretty sure if you ask him, he’s bisexual. What that man felt for Peggy – that was real. He’s still hurtin’ over losing her. But him and Barnes? Stupid decisions about where to get it on aside, I’d have to say it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to him. He’s a different person with him. He smiles more, he laughs more. He’s a goddamn little shit, is what he is. Pain in my patooty, that’s for sure. But it suits him in a way nothing else does. I once asked him what makes him happy. He didn’t know. Not then. But if I asked him that same question again today, pretty sure he’d have an answer, wouldn’t even have to think about it.”

Natasha huffed a soft laugh, and tilted her head back, letting her eyes flutter shut for a moment, a breath. A smile, sweet and genuine, spread across her face. “Well, if I have to lose my first love to someone, I’m pretty okay with it being Cap. Although he said not to call him that anymore?”

“Hmm-mm. He dropped the shield. Left it with Tony. He feels like he’s not Captain America without the shield. It’s made of vibranium. This is where vibranium comes from. T’Challa offered to make him a new shield. So far, he’s said no.”

“You don’t think he’s thinking of retiring.”

“I think he sees the white picket fence and the dog with Barnes. No shit. And y’know what? Why not? Hasn’t he earned it?”

“Haven’t they both?” Natasha replied softly.

“Well, Cap – _Steve_ – is having some trouble convincing Barnes of that. Barnes still expects punishment. I don’t think the nightmares will ever go away – you manage it, you can’t cure it – but the sense of guilt, the need for punishment … with time and therapy, they may go away. In the meantime, Steve’s got his work cut out for him. Then again, Steve doesn’t come without baggage, either. Who are you when the world turns away, after you’ve saved that world again and again?”

“You can be anyone you want to be,” Natasha answered with a smile.

“That what you’re gonna do – go be someone new?”

“Thought maybe I’d try sticking around here. Being myself. For a while – try it on for size, y’know? Eventually we’re gonna have to come out of hiding, and do something about the Accords. I can admit I was wrong. I thought we had some control, but we had nothing. But with Pepper’s people working the problem, us, T’Challa’s – we will find a solution.”

“It’ll be good to see her. I’m hoping for good news on Rhodes.”

“Yeah, we all are.”

&&&

“Hmmm. I like that.”

“You’re like a fuckin’ cat, Buck. Thinkin’ we should move the bed to catch the sun in the afternoon, just so you can curl up and sleep in the sunbeam.”

“I like the way you think, Rogers. Sex, cuddles, you playin’ with my hair, and a sunbeam to nap in. Followed by food, more sex, more cuddles, and you playin’ with my hair while I fall asleep on your surprisingly cushy tits. Sounds like the life.”

“They’re pecs, not tits. And yeah, that does sound like the life,” Steve agreed wistfully.

“So I’m guessin’ it’s off the table, huh?”

“No. Not at all. I just never really thought about what I’d do if I hung up the shield. But that’s what I’ve done, isn’t it? I left it behind. I don’t hafta be Captain America. I can just be Steve Rogers. But I gotta figure out who that is. Who _is_ Steve Rogers if he’s not Captain America?”

“He’s my boyfriend,” Bucky giggled, drawing circles around Steve’s left nipple and blowing on it so he could watch it pebble and harden. “He’s my best friend,” he added, flattening his palm against Steve’s chest, and resting it over his heart. “He’s my lover,” he concluded, stretching up to brush his lips over Steve’s.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed. “I guess I am. Was it … was it okay? I mean, I know we didn’t go, _go all the way_ , but it felt pretty good to me. You?” he asked nervously, glancing down at Bucky with his brow arched anxiously.

“As first times go, it was aces. As thousandth times go, it was aces. It was you. And me. And we’re figurin’ it out. I don’t know if I’ve ever been this happy, Steve. I mean, there’s still a lot I don’t remember from before. And eventually, I’m gonna have to face the music. But for now, I honestly can’t imagine that anything’s ever made me as happy as you do.” He shifted on the bed so he didn’t have to strain to kiss Steve again, and he did, slow and thorough and deep. They stretched out against each other, luxuriating in the sensation of skin on skin, the comfort of the bed, and the scent and taste of each other.

They broke apart when Bucky winced slightly, causing Steve to pull back, brow furrowed deeply with concern. “Buck? You okay?” he asked, cupping Bucky’s cheek with his palm.

Bucky slid his own hand over Steve’s palm and smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Just some aches and pains. I get ‘em all the time.”

“You do? I’d’a thought your version of the serum woulda taken care of all that. How long you been hurtin’?”

“Ummmm … since 1943?”

“Since Kreusberg?”

“Yeah, I think so. Zola once told me that the serum would take time to work on me, since he couldn’t give me a blast of radiation from the blue cube thing. Woulda killed me outright, puffa blue smoke, and no more Bucky Barnes. So I guess maybe I should be grateful. But yeah, apparently the serum is still workin’ its way through my system. Still changin’ things, still makin’ things grow,” he held up his hand and let the light streaming in through the floor to ceiling window backlight it, sunlight dancing like fire between his fingers. “I wasn’t as tall as you in 1943, Steve. I’m as tall as you now, though.”

“And this hurts you?” Steve asked solemnly.

“Sometimes like a sonovabitch.” He flexed his fingers experimentally. “When you got blasted, when Erskine gave you the serum and shit – it hurt, right?”

“Felt like I was being blasted apart from the inside, while the outside was on fire. Like everything was broken, ground to dust, and then set on fire and smashed together again.”

“Yeah, I just feel like stuff’s being pulled apart and smushed together again. All the time.”

“And this has been goin’ on since Kreusberg?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“How come you never mentioned it, Buck? We coulda done somethin’ about it, maybe. We shoulda sent you home. Let you get out on a medical. I’m so fucking sorry, baby, if I hadn’t had my goddamned head up my ass, if only you’d told me –“

“Steve. You didn’t do this to me. Zola did. And if you’d sent me home, you woulda got your dumbass killed. ‘Cos I didn’t get to take all the stupid with me – you held onto a fuckton of it, asshole. And if I hadn’t been there on your six, I dunno how many Hydra goons mighta taken you out. And besides – I was the only successful subject. Zola woulda found me in Brooklyn, Steve. Me fallin’ off the train made it easy for Hydra to find me. But they woulda tracked me down, Steve. ‘Cos Zola needed me. And I don’t wanna think about who woulda gotten hurt if they’d taken me in Brooklyn. My sisters, my parents – at least I don’t have their deaths on my conscience, baby. And I’m here. You’re here. We’re here together, where we get to do this,” he concluded, trailing fingers over Steve jaw til he caught his chin between his thumb and forefinger, and tilted Steve’s face just so. He closed his mouth over Steve’s and kissed him again, swallowing Steve’s whimpers, and raising him a moan or two. “This is worth an ache or two,” he whispered against Steve’s lips, then dove back in again.

&&&

Natasha finally decided she’d had quite enough of feelings, and she was ready to see Clint and the others. Sam had smiled gently and nodded, then led her deeper into the complex to the wing where they all currently made their homes. It was dinnertime, so it wasn’t surprising that everyone was sitting around the big dinner table with Pepper and T’Challa. Steve and Bucky were absent, and Sam’s mind shied away from the implications of that; he just hoped they were in their apartment and not sullying surfaces throughout the complex.

Clint looked up at their entrance, and grinned broadly at them both, rising to hurry around the table and pull Nat into a hug. His arms enveloped her, and for once, Natasha allowed herself to become small in Clint’s embrace, letting her own arms wrap around his midsection. He turned his face to plant a kiss on the crown of her head. And then he looked up at Sam and he nodded, silently acknowledging his approval for Sam to help Natasha out.

Then they released each other, stepped away from each other a little awkwardly, and then Clint gestured toward an empty seat at the table. Steve’s actually, so apparently no one was expecting the nonagenarians for dinner. He turned and smiled at Pepper, and then took his own seat. Platters of food were already on the table, and the others started passing them around to Natasha and him without being asked.

“Now that we are almost all here, Ms. Potts – Pepper – and I have some information to share. But please, eat – we will go over everything when we are done.”

“You’re not going to wait for Steve. And Bucky?” Natasha asked warily.

“We will catch up with them later. They have asked not to be disturbed.”

“In their apartment, right?” Sam asked, earning him odd looks from everyone around the table, except Natasha, who smirked into her drink and licked her lips, about to break into a full-blown smile.

“Yes?”

“Nah, just checkin’.”

“Sam ran into them earlier and suggested they go to their room,” Natasha snickered softly, putting her hand over her mouth to contain her grin.

“As in ‘get a room’? Clint asked pointed, his eyebrow arching toward his hairline.

Nat nodded, and the grin broke free, accompanied by a chuckle.

There was silence around the table for a long moment, and then Scott broke it by lifting his glass and saying, “About time, I say.”

He was met with a chorus of “hear, hear” and “damn straight.” Sam had to smile. They were a weird bunch, but they were his weird bunch, and they were weirdly accepting, too. “Steve isn’t gonna appreciate you narcing on him and his boy toy, Nat,” Sam warned.

“Oh, I think I can handle Rogers. But now that I don’t have to spend time matchmaking for him, I’m gonna need a new hobby. Thinking I may need to find you a date, Wilson.”

“Thinking maybe you should think about _being_ my date, Romanoff,” he retorted with a saucy grin.

Again, silence descended over the table as all eyes shifted to Sam, back to Natasha, and back again.

“Play your cards right, and maybe I will,” she smirked at him.

It was like everyone had been holding their breath, and then suddenly the room was full of chatter again. Natasha looked up at him through the veil of her lashes and smiled. 

Sam smiled back. Pepper caught his eye, and glanced down at the table, where she held a thumbs up for him. Well, then. If he had Pepper Potts’s approval, and Natasha didn’t slug him, he had a chance. 

Didn’t he?

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yes, the smut is off-screen. Because it needed to be. Sometimes smut gets in the way of the story, and that was the case here. So have some implied smut. And kissing. And solving mysteries of the MCU ...
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy this latest chapter. Ideas are gelling for the next chapter as well. There are conversations to be had.


	23. Reconfiguration

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So ... somebody's gotta pay for breaking Leipzig. No matter how much you like these heroes, that's no reason to dump all the expenses on the unsuspecting people of Germany. The piper finally comes a-calling, and he wants to be paid.
> 
> Questions I asked myself while writing this chapter ... 
> 
> ... how did it all go so wrong so spectacularly?
> 
> ... what can the Avengers do to get on the right side of the world again?
> 
> ... what about Bruce?
> 
> ... and what about Rhodey?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got another comment that was really negative about laying blame, and perceptions. I was already planning to have Pepper address the Leipzig airport and reparations before I saw that comment (the person gave up on the story at chapter 5 because they felt my bias for Team Cap made me blind to their faults), but the comment served to sharpen my focus in this chapter. Hope you like it.

Dinner conversation was light and easy, but there was an undercurrent of expectation, and frisson of excitement at possible good news, and a fillip of tension that the news might be less than good. Finally, everyone cleared the dinner plates away, each taking a role in the process, and desserts were brought out, along with clean plates and fresh dinnerware. A couple of fresh bottles of wine were opened, along with sparkling water, and fresh perked coffee made from coffee beans grown on Wakandan slopes.

Finally, everyone was settled back in, and there was a collective hush as the ex-Avengers, plus Scott, leaned in, waiting for Pepper to share.

She took a sip of the coffee and closed her eyes in appreciation. “Oh. Oh that is good. Is there any chance I could get some beans to take back with me?”

“I think that can be arranged. But you are stalling, and these fine people are about to burst with anticipation,” T’Challa chuckled softly gesturing to the others and their tense, expectant expressions.

Pepper giggled slightly, took another sip, and placed her cup resolutely in the saucer. “Okay. A lot’s been happening since you’ve been here. A major issue is restitution,” she said, then paused, letting her words sink in.

“Restitution. For what exactly?” Wanda asked warily.

“The German government is seeking damages for the destruction at the Leipzig airport. Now, Stark Industries has already paid in several billion dollars since a lot of the damage was caused by blasts from the Iron Man and Iron Patriot suits, as well as the damage caused by Vision. But Tony’s team wasn’t solely responsible for the destruction. The airlines want their broken jets replaced –“

Scott tentatively raised his hand, and Pepper nodded toward him. “Scott Lang here, nice to meet you, Miss Potts. Hope speaks very highly of you, you know. But … how much, roughly, does a plane cost?”

“Upwards of one hundred million dollars, give or take. I understand you personally broke more than one.”

“Wow. That’s a lotta burgers to flip. Will they take an IOU?”

“Hmm. We’ll get to that later. It’s not just the planes. The people whose cars were parked in the parking garage – there is a special fund for them.” She leveled Wanda with a serious gaze, and the younger woman squirmed slightly, but settled quickly, pressing her lips together and nodding. Taking responsibility. “Not only were their cars destroyed, but they were stranded at Leipzig airport, and there was no infrastructure in place to ensure they got to their destinations. This had a ripple effect of disruption across the region. The tarmac was ripped apart, buildings were unsafe or in rubble … you guys really went to town, didn’t you?”

“The cars were me,” Wanda was quick to point out. “At the time, they were projectiles to be used against the Iron Man suit. A necessary tactic.”

“And the planes?”

“Big diversion?” Scott shrugged nervously.

“What’s the price tag?” Sam asked, cutting through the clutter.

“Five billion.”

“Talk to Steve,” Sam stated flatly.

“He’s bankrolling your chicanery now?”

“When he headed to Britain for Peggy’s funeral. I think he had some idea that maybe he wouldn’t go back. He met with a banker in London. Transferred a big chunk of his money.”

“I know. They tried seizing his assets, but his bank account had had a very large withdrawal in the immediate past. Still quite a lot there, but not enough to cover the five billion.”

“Steve left enough to cover his taxes.”

“He what?” Clint demanded, chuckling.

“He moved his money out of US banks, but he left enough to cover his taxes. He didn’t want to be a tax dodger,” Sam said, grinning.

Pepper shook her head. “Why does this not surprise me? And where is the money now?”

“Here. In Wakanda. Or rather, in the Bank of Wakanda,” T’Challa replied. 

“I see. Any idea why he moved so much cash?”

“Like I said, I think he was preparing to maybe not come back. And then everything went south with the UN bombing, hunting for Barnes …” Sam explained.

“How on earth did he have time to move so much?”

“Once the accounts were set up, he just used the app. He has a phone, y’know. And we had some time to kill. Getting from London to Berlin and then to Bucharest. Not like they’re right next door to each other. And we weren’t travelling via QuinJet. We had to make do with public transportation, car rentals. Pretty sure he upped his Pokemon score, too. Saw him farting around with that tsum tsum game, too.”

Pepper’s lips quirked, and then she chuckled. “Steve has Tony so snowed. He’s far more technologically savvy than Tony suspects. So, our Captain navigated apps to transfer large sums of money. Okay. I’ll talk to him when he’s available.”

“Not sure it’s fair he has to pony it up, but …”

“Someone has to pay. Someone who’s not a person who innocently parked their car before taking a flight. Someone who parked their plane with a reasonable expectation it would still be in one piece when they were ready to fly it.” 

Scott blushed and looked down, while Wanda pursed her lips in frustration. 

“I get it. Heat of the battle. Believe it or not, I’ve been there. But think a little bit more about what you’re doing next time. The planes, the cars – they weren’t toys. They were a company’s livelihood, a person’s only means of transportation.”

Sam spoke up. “You give him a bill, you know he’s gonna pay.” 

She nodded. “I’d expect nothing less. He’s not going to take off, is he?”

“Nah. No need. No point. He’s safe here. More importantly, Barnes is safe here,” Sam countered, and T’Challa nodded. “He might even put down roots here, who knows?”

T’Challa smiled at that. “And I would welcome him. I would welcome them both. There is much Captain Rogers could do here, without ever donning his uniform again.”

“So, we’re just gonna let Steve pay the freight for all of us?” Clint asked from his spot at the opposite end of the table. “I don’t know about you, but I was there willingly. I agree with Cap – a panel of non-combatants convened by the UN, each with their own agenda, is not what we need to tell us what to do.”

“I don’t disagree with you,” Pepper said, and that surprised them all. “Theoretically, the Accords should be invalidated. They don’t just tell you whether you can go into a situation. They can command you to go into a situation, whether you choose to or not. The Accords put non-enhanced individuals in charge of enhanced individuals purely on the basis that they are enhanced. It’s racism in its purest form. There is no consent implicit in the transaction. That, my friends, is slavery. It violates the UN’s own charter.”

“Well … good. That mean I can go home now? My little girl has a recital coming up, and it would be great if I could surprise her from the front row.”

“No one’s going home just yet. As I said, there is the matter of reparations – Germany is not going to let that go. If it had just been damage to the airport, I think they would have accepted the influx of cash from Stark Industries. But the jets and the cars, those impact private businesses, and private citizens. The government has to be seen as looking after their interests. Steve covers the debt from his personal fortune, that takes care of a _part_ of the problem.”

“Knew it was too good to be true,” Clint muttered to himself.

“There’s still a lot to be done. The reputation of the Avengers is still tarnished. I mean, a great deal of it is the spin that Ross put on what happened in New York, DC, Sokovia. Did you notice he skipped over England, when those Dark Elves tried to break through during that convergence thingie? It was Thor and humans working together, not the Avengers. Lots of destruction, and of course once he’d shifted the biggest pieces of … flying buttresses, Thor didn’t stick around for very long. SHIELD stepped in and helped with the cleanup. But no one trusts that SHIELD didn’t just step in so it could get its grubby little paws on the good stuff, as Tony would say. The really sexy alien tech. Anyway, he’s been very selective in what he’s shared, and he’s been very careful to eliminate what you’ve done to help from the narrative. He’s taken over the narrative, and he’s made sure it doesn’t reflect positively on you.”

“Steve and I were talking not too long ago, and we realized that Ross approached my father with the idea for the Accords. And he basically drafted them. They are designed to put him in charge of the UN panel, in charge of the world’s enhanced,” T’Challa said grimly. “This is something that cannot happen.”

“So we need to do some polishing on the reputation of the Avengers, and you as individuals. I’ll be working with my teams to start a social media campaign to flip the public discussion, get more of the facts out there, get people on our side. We’re looking for cell phone footage as well as news footage showing you at your best, helping people, chipping in. And what you look like at your worst, hurt, beaten down, injured, but still picking up the fight.”

“I have some footage of Steve in the hospital,” Sam volunteered tentatively. “I didn’t mean to be a creep, but my Mama did not believe that I was in a hospital room with Captain Fucking America. So, I did a thing. And I kept it.”

“That’s actually good. That information was suppressed at the time, but it’s time the truth was leaked. I’ll need that, plus anything else you’ve got. We’ve got to earn back the trust of the public, and the best way to do that is by showing them who we really are.”

“We?” Wanda asked suddenly, her eyes narrowed.

“Let’s just say that if enhanced registration becomes a requirement, you’re not the only one who’ll be on their list.”

“That extremis stuff,” Sam guessed.

“It’s stable. But it’s still a part of me,” Pepper confirmed.

“What about Rhodes? How’s he doing?”

“Right now, he’s looking at a long road to recovery. The damage to his spinal cord is significant. When Tony’s not working on decrypting his father’s files, he’s working on a prosthetic shell to enable Rhodey to walk. He’s still working on the neural interface, but it’s promising. Very promising.”

“That’s good. That’s very good. Stark perfects that, there’s a lotta vets who could have a second chance at life. Lotta people.”

“Yes, it’s very promising technology, but right now, very expensive. But yes, something for him to keep working on. Something that doesn’t blow up or shoot projectiles.”

“What about Vision? I … I haven’t spoken to him since the airport.”

“He sends his regards,” Pepper said quietly, her face soft and kind. “I think he would have liked to have come with me, but … he doesn’t present all that well.”

“He’s awkward as fuck, we get it. So, what, we keep him under wraps?”

“For the time being. He’s very powerful, and socially awkward, and I can’t trust him not to blurt out something … horrible, but well-meaning. No, for the moment, we need to focus on those of you who can handle more human interaction without incident.”

“Well, I’m out, then,” Scott announced.

“Right behind you, bro. ‘Cept we gotta. If we ever wanna see our kids again, we gotta.”

“You need to be very visibly able to handle more human interaction without incident.”

“What’d you have in mind?”

“Well, Ross is spinning that you destroy things and then don’t stick around for the cleanup. And I know that’s bullshit. Those of you who were in Sokovia were nearly killed trying to get people off the city –“

“Pietro _was_ killed,” Wanda reminded her in a small voice.

“Yes. You lost your family, your city, your home. I don’t want to sensationalize that personal loss. I also don’t want to focus too much attention on the fact that none of that would have happened if Tony and Bruce hadn’t created Ultron. It was an admirable, noble goal, but the end result …” she shook her head, shuddering. “And I certainly don’t want to draw any attention to your role in Tony deciding that Ultron was necessary.” Wanda started to open her mouth to protest, and Pepper reached out, gently laying her hand on Wanda’s wrist. “I know why. You had no way of knowing what would happen, but you certainly gave everything you had, _everything_ , to make up for it. That’s the piece the world is missing – how much each and every one of you sacrificed.”

She paused, looking around the table. “But I don’t want to focus on the past. I want to show you off doing everything you can to do right by the world.”

“What’d you have in mind?” Sam asked.

“Community service.”

“Community service. That’s right. Wakanda has no poverty, everyone is educated. This is a model of how a country should be run,” Sam replied acerbically.

“Not here,” Pepper agreed. “Nigeria. Lagos and the towns and villages that surround it. Where it all went to shit. I’ve been in contact with the president there. He’s willing. Building homes, medical centers, doing whatever’s necessary to assist.”

“Not sure if you got the memo, but we’re wanted fugitives outside of Wakanda. Not like we can get on a commercial flight and jump over,” Sam pointed out.

“Actually, you can,” T’Challa announced. “As citizens of Wakanda, you will be on a diplomatic mission, with full diplomatic immunity.”

“Not sure I wanna give up American citizenship to do a good will tour. I mean, I hope we’re eventually gonna fix this and I get to go home to my wife and kids,” Clint announced, crossing his arms over his chest.

Natasha had been silent all through this, but finally she spoke, “Under diplomatic immunity, the US can’t extradite you. It’s a good deal.”

“And there is no reason to give up citizenship. Wakanda will allow dual citizenship. You lose nothing, you gain much. And the Nigerian people would appreciate the help.”

“We helped, you know. Steve called for rescue services as soon as it happened. He was badly shaken. I was, too. Horrified at what I’d done. And we stayed to assist. Why does no one know that?”

“Because it did not make good copy. That’s another thing we need to find cell phone video on. The press completely ignored the team’s efforts to assist, or what would have happened if you hadn’t intervened,” Pepper noted.

“My CSI team has been analyzing the footage. The force of Rumlow’s blast was significantly greater than anticipated. You didn’t know – you could not know – to compensate. But if you had not attempted to remove him from the market, many more would have died, and those that survived would have wished they were dead,” T’Challa told her gently.

“Okay, so we get dual citizenship, we go to Nigeria, we do what? Help build houses?”

“Each of you will be assigned a locality to assist –“

“Sorry, but if we’re gonna show the world what great folks we are, we should do it as a team. We can accomplish more as a team. We need the world to understand that it’s the team that makes us great,” Clint argued, resting forward on his forearms.

“Clint is right. We can work more efficiently in each location as a group, then move on to the next one. Our work would just be symbolic as individuals. But as a team, we can make a difference. I may not be Thor, but I wield a pretty fly hammer.”

“I’m an electrical engineer by training. There’s a lot I can do in the urban centers, but put me in the country, and I need a keeper.”

“I’m game,” Wanda announced simply.

“What about you, Miss Natasha?” asked Sam. “Ready for some image rehab?”

“If you think putting a hammer in my hand is my dream date, got another think coming, flyboy. But I’m game.”

“We’re in then. What about Steve and Barnes?”

“Barnes is safer in Wakanda for the moment. I think so is Steve. And I don’t see either of them being ready to be parted from the other yet,” T’Challa observed wryly.

“Ah, the honeymoon phase,” Scott chuckled, missing the slightly pained expression on Natasha’s face. Pepper, on the other hand, did notice, and she turned to Natasha, touching her gently on the wrist. Natasha just shrugged and gave her a weary smile.

“Excellent. I will inform the Nigerian president that my diplomatic team will be ready for transport in what?” T’Challa looked to Pepper, who held up three fingers. “Three days, that is good. That should give all of you time to complete any ongoing projects, don’t you think?”

“That’ll give us time to go over some ground rules, too. You can bet your reappearance will catch the attention of reporters – and we’re banking on that. So long as we can control the narrative.”

&&&

After the dinner party with the Avengers living in Wakanda – less Steve and Bucky – Pepper checked her phone again, and typed up a quick text, sending it into the ether.

 **Bruce** : Shd arrv Wakanda 3 days. Capital in 4 CU soon

 **Pepper** : B good 2 cu Team headed 2 Nigeria on diplomatic mission 4 King Thought b easier 4u Steve & Bucky only

 **Bruce** : Yeah sounds good

Bruce had picked up a burner phone during his journey to Wakanda, so he could keep in touch. Keep her apprised of his progress.

Pepper couldn’t remember the point at which she’d appointed herself den mother to this band of misfits and powered oddballs, but they were family. And someone had to look after them. Tomorrow she’d tackle the problem of the Winter Soldier. Tonight … tonight she was going to enjoy the view from her rooms, and fall asleep under the stars of a foreign land. 

Part of her missed Tony, would love to have him here. But he was definitely not ready to cohabit in the same country as James Buchanan Barnes yet, let alone the same compound. The time would come. And soon.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do truly believe that Tony carries the bigger portion of blame for the trashing of Leipzig airport. He chose to use force, he chose not to give Steve the opportunity to speak. He chose to use weapons before he even confronted Steve. Tony, Rhodey, and Vision were all equipped with either suits or abilities capable of significant destruction. And they all used those resources to destroy a helicopter, collapse the facade of a building, and cut through the tarmac.
> 
> I also think there are issues of scale here. Vision has incredible power, and he really doesn't understand that, he doesn't understand that sheering off the face of a building is overkill when you're trying to stop people from getting into the building, or that a blast from his mind stone might be a little more firepower than needed to take out Falcon's propulsion (which knocks out Rhodey's arc reactor, sending him plummeting to earth). 
> 
> When Scott is Giant Man, everything becomes like a toy to him. And let's face it - he looks like he's gone a little batshit crazy there when he enlarges. He treats the planes like balsa wood rather than multi-million dollar assets belonging to someone.
> 
> And Wanda and the cars. Again, treating something like toys. She's far enough away from the parking garage that the cars look like Hot Wheels, but the fact is each is someone's property, maybe a vehicle they spent years saving up for, maybe a vehicle that has special nostalgic value, maybe a vehicle they just paid off. In using them as essentially bricks to throw at Tony in the suit, she uses them as a diversion, but without regard for how their destruction is going to impact the people who own them, or the physical and environmental impact to the destruction itself.
> 
> Scott and Wanda are both the newbies of the team. You can look at Peter, the other newbie, and his solution to bring down Giant Man - clever and funny, but ultimately destructive when that huge figure crashes down on the plane.
> 
> Look then at some of the others - more controlled, more aware of the combat situation. Rhodey's actually the surprising one, because I'd expect more precision, more awareness from such a combat veteran.
> 
> So that's my breakdown, my thoughts.
> 
> It's mundane and maybe a little boring, but there's a human story behind each one of those things being tossed around at the airport.
> 
> Y'know, I really need to do a chapter on Peter. I have thoughts and opinions there, too. :)
> 
> More to come ... let me know what you think!


	24. Repayment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Pepper have a heart to heart ...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to leave this here, and I'll add comments later. I've had a couple of readers leave comments that they disagreed with my interpretations, felt we hadn't even watched the same movie, that my characterizations are completely off the mark ... sorry that they felt that way, but I'm writing what makes sense to me. Kinda felt like those comments were intended to punish me in some way. Oh well. As I note in the first note, your mileage may vary, and if the story doesn't work for you, you don't have to stick around - you can choose to move on. Just watched the film again this week, and still stand by my interpretation. You are most welcome to have your own opinion, just as I have the right to have mine. 
> 
> Yeah, I'm tired and grumpy. I may have to come back to this and edit it later on, but for now, I'm pretty comfortable with how this chapter evolved.

He knew he was going to take a ration of shit and then some when they came up for air, but right now, he seriously gave no fucks. Buck was sleeping calmly, his body fully relaxed, his brow smooth and unconcerned. Steve had to dig deep to remember the last time he’d seen Bucky like this … when they were teenagers, summer of ’34. 

Bucky’s Dad was settled into a good, steady job, and the Barnes clan wasn’t living it up, but they were comfortable. With so many people suffering, his Ma made sure to share what she could, and that often meant that Steve got the benefit of her largesse. 

It was summer, a run of days that weren’t too hot, and the nights were blessedly cool. Buck had scrounged up enough running errands and delivering for the local shops to take the pair of them to Coney Island for the day, complete with hot dogs and popsicles, and even a little leftover to do some of the midway games. It wasn’t even Steve’s birthday, just a good day at the beach.

They’d strolled along, arm in arm, boasting about how big their futures were gonna be. Little had they known what the future would bring the pair of them, that they’d be here, almost a hundred years later. A hundred years and a hundred lifetimes later.

Back in ’34, Bucky’d been on top of the world, just discovering girls as they were discovering him, and his young heart had yet to be broken. Steve’s health was pretty good that summer, only a short summer cold that passed quickly, leaving him left with only his arm-long list of normal ailments. It was like Christmas in July.

They’d spent the day out like a pair of toffs, took the subway home and bunked in together because Ma was working a double shift that night. And Steve had sat up, back pressed against the thin wall, watching the moonlight play over the face and form of his best friend, and knew in some objective way that Bucky was beautiful. He’d pulled a scrap of butcher’s paper out of his pants pocket, and a nub of charcoal, and he drawn that landscape splayed across Bucky’s bed in quick, firm strokes. He hadn’t understood it then, but Steve thought that not only was that the last time he’d seen Bucky completely without care, but that was the moment he fell in love with him. He wouldn’t understand it for over 80 years. He understood it now.

He was settled against the headboard of their oversized bed, carved out of some delicately veined hardwood, stained to pop the grain, and polished to a satiny smoothness. They were still in the royal compound, so everything was sumptuous, a feast for the senses, and sometimes just a little too much for a kid from Brooklyn.

But, watching the moonlight play along the hills and valleys of Bucky’s muscles, the shattered flesh of his left shoulder and ribs, caressing the smooth contours of his face, kissing his forehead with a silvery light … Steve knew that no matter the cost, Bucky deserved it all. All the good things he could beg, borrow, or steal for him. It was time to pay back the favors of a lifetime.

Not because he owed it. Because he _wanted_ to give it. He wanted to give Bucky everything. Every day, in every way, for as long as they lived.

He smiled at the thought of years stretching away in front of them, years spent together.

They would have their future. No matter the cost.

He felt the faint ping of his phone, and thumbed the lock screen away to see a text from Pepper.

**Pepper** : Got a minute?

He smiled. Whatever the cost.

**Steve** : For you, all the time in the world.  
 **Pepper** : Sweet talker. Meet in common room?  
 **Steve** : Be there in five.

“You’re thinkin’ too loud, punk,” Bucky whined from the bed, not moving from his starfish formation. “Come back to bed.”

Steve loped over to the bed, kneeled on the edge and bent down to place a kiss between Bucky’s shoulder blades. “Gotta go meet Pepper. I won’t be gone long. Keep the bed warm for me.”

“Sh’d I be jealous?”

Steve simply chuckled softly. “Never, jerk. No one can hold a candle to you, y’know that.”

“Eh. Prove it t’me,” Bucky muttered into his pillow.

“So long as we both shall live,” Steve agreed softly, his voice barely a whisper. Bucky moved then, half-rolling over so he could crack open an eye and look at Steve.

“Getting sappy on me, punk?”

“Been sappy on you for more’n 80 years, Buck. Why stop now?”

A smile trembled at the corners of Bucky’s mouth as his eyes softened. “Hurry back. I got plans.”

“Sooner I’m gone, sooner I’m back. Gotta put on some pants. Love you,” he added, dropping another kiss to the corner of Bucky’s mouth, and then he forced himself to get up before temptation won out.

&&&

“It really is extraordinary here,” Pepper was saying as she stared out the massive window into the silver-gilded landscape beyond the window.

“I never realized a place like this could exist on earth – it seems like one of the alien worlds in the pulps Buck would read back when we were kids,” Steve agreed, stepping quietly into the space. In the silence, with the light playing as it did in the jungle beyond, the vaulted space felt sacred somehow, like a church in the new millennium. He moved to stand beside her, noting how young and beautiful she looked as she stood there, awash in silver glow, a glass of wine in her hand glittering and glimmering in the moonlight. 

She smiled then, and lowered her gaze to look at him directly. “Happiness is a good look on you, Steve.”

He smiled softly, ducking his head to the left. “Getting there,” he admitted.

“I want to see you get your ever after.” She paused to take a sip of her wine.

“I sense a but coming.”

“But, there are prices to pay, actions to take.”

“A big but, then.”

“A costly one.” She went on to explain about the reparations being demanded for the airport the two teams had broken. “We’ve provided funds from Tony’s personal funds, to cover a large portion of it, but he drew the line at paying for the planes and cars.”

“Because it was my team that caused the damage. Fair enough.”

“Sam said all I had to do was tell you how much.”

“Sam knows me pretty well. He knows I’d never welch on a bet, and he knows I’d never skip out on a tab. I sure as hell wouldn’t want to stiff a friend.”

“That what we are?”

“I hope so. But I was also thinking of Tony.”

“He has a long way to go, Steve. He’s making progress. But don’t be disappointed if you don’t get a Christmas card this year. Or the next.”

“That’s okay. I never meant to hurt him, Pepper. It’s just …”

“Events got out of hand. As they do when Tony’s involved. But you bear some blame, too, Steve. Quite a lot of blame, actually.”

“I … yeah, okay. I do. But I can’t act against my conscience. Any more than I’d expect Tony to. And there is no way I was going to let anyone hurt Bucky.”

“I heard about what happened in Siberia. It really shook Tony, that you’d use the shield against him like that.”

“I had to disable the arc reactor before he killed me or Buck. We’re tough, we’re not invulnerable. We _can_ be killed.”

“Can you? I wonder about that. Especially with everything your friend has gone through. Or, I guess he’s what?”

“He called me his boyfriend earlier today. It doesn’t seem like it’s enough, too frivolous. Lover is too sexual.”

“Soulmate?”

“Too Hallmark.”

She chuckled softly. “Friend it is, then. There’s something precious about friendship. We use the word ‘friend’ so casually in our society. It’s become a verb, for heaven’s sake! We devalue the word by over-usage. But the friendship between you and Bucky …”

“Kinda like what I always imagined the friendship to be between you and Tony.” 

She slid her hand around the crook of his elbow then, leaning in so her head rested against his arm. “Yeah. We were always friends first. Even when we were employer-employee, there was something different about our interaction. With everything that’s happened the past several years, we got away from that, I guess. Friendship.”

“I’m sorry you two are … taking a break. He loves you, you know. You make him happier than anyone else could.”

“I know. I also know that he’ll mean every promise he makes me, and then he’ll go and break every one of them without thinking.”

“But you still love him.”

She nodded silently.

“Could you let him go? Really let him go, so he could find love with someone else?”

“I’m not that kind. I still want him in my life. I just can’t quit him,” she added with a small laugh.

“That’s a movie quote, right? Something that should be on my list?”

She lifted her head and looked at him for a long moment. “Maybe not right now. But later. Right now, I think you need to focus on you and your relationship with James. And making out a check for a very large sum of money.”

“Sam knew I’d pay. What’d the others think?”

“Scott said something about flipping burgers and IOUs. Clint thought it wasn’t fair.”

“It was my fight. I asked them to join me. I was the commander. Any debts incurred are mine, not theirs.”

“Well, you might want to have a better game plan when it comes to other people’s property. It’s one thing when you’re in battle against an alien threat. Or a terrestrial threat. It’s quite another when it’s a family squabble.”

“Ross would have had Buck killed, you know. It wasn’t just a squabble for me. It was protecting my family.”

“I know.”

“He told me that he thought he might be able to get you back. Signing the Accords. Taking responsibility.”

“He’s an idiot. But he’s my idiot.”

“It’s good to have an idiot of your very own.”

“Is James your idiot?”

“Pretty sure I’m his.” He took a deep breath and straightened more, lifting his chin to raise his eyes toward the jungle canopy arcing overhead beyond the window. “So. What’s the damage?”

“Five billion. Infrastructure repair, replacement of multiple jets, replacement of a large number of private vehicles, and reparations for lost wages, reimbursement for costs incurred due to aforesaid vehicles being destroyed.”

Steve let out a low whistle. “I remember when five cents was a lot of money. Damn.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you had all that back pay with interest to invest. And that you had such a helpful financial advisor,” she added, her eyes crinkling with mirth.

“Yes, Ms. Potts, you did good. Do I really make out a check for that? Not sure I can count that many zeroes.”

“I’ll help you count. Putting the money into the fund will go a long way to rehabilitating your image in Germany. Eventually, I would like to see you go there and do a public mea culpa, but not right now. Oh, and by the way, the team will be relocating to Nigeria for a while. To help in rebuilding in and around Lagos. It’s all arranged with the president of Nigeria.”

“Doesn’t that put them in danger?”

“Not really. T’Challa has granted them dual citizenship, and they’ll be working under a government invitation.”

“I should go, too,” he suggested reluctantly, and she shook her head.

“You’re needed here. You and T’Challa are doing some good work dissecting the Accords. And James needs you. I assume you’re not quite ready to come out of the closet.”

“I’m not ashamed. But do you think it would hurt or help?”

“Right now, it might hurt. It would distract from the story we need to tell. We’ll spin it as you’re staying by James’s side while he recovers his memories after years of torture and brainwashing by Hydra. That’s why you’re not going to Germany in the immediate future.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Which makes it easier to sell. You’re so much more convincing when you believe in what you’re saying.”

“I can lie if I have to, but I don’t like to. My Mama raised me better than that.”

“Well, we always want to make Mrs. Rogers proud. I’ll check in with you in the morning, and we can take care of the funds transfer. That doesn’t empty the bank, does it, Steve?”

“So help me, no, it doesn’t. You’re a _very_ good financial advisor, Pepper.”

“You had a _lot_ of back pay and interest to work with. Let’s hope this is the last time we need to draw from it to pay for damage. That’s one thing the Accords need to address – some sort of international fund that would cover damages. But if you’re going to be the Avengers again, you guys need to figure out how to do what you do without making so much of a mess.”

“Don’t know if there’s gonna be an Avengers again. Don’t know if I wanna be a part of it if there is.”

She unwound her hands and leaned away from him so she could look up and see his expression. “You’re really thinking of retiring.”

“I’m thinking that maybe … maybe it’s time to come home from war. I haven’t made any decisions yet, but … I know I told Tony I couldn’t look the other way when something happens, but if that’s what it takes to keep Buck safe … maybe I have to learn to do it.” _Whatever the cost._

“You don’t have to be an Avenger to make a difference, Steve. Steve Rogers is more than just Captain America.”

“I’d like to believe that. I just need to figure out who Steve Rogers is.”

“Well, sleep on it. And say hello to James for me. I am looking forward to meeting him. Howard had figured out that the blood he was experimenting with came from James, you know. He’d figured out that James was in Hydra’s custody, that he was the Winter Soldier. He’d been on his way to turn over the serum and the information to Peggy Carter. He wanted to try to rescue James, and if they couldn’t rescue him, put him out of his misery. Howard was betrayed by Mitchell Carson, the third chief at SHIELD at the time. It was a sick joke sending James to do the job.”

“Uh, er, what? You couldn’t have led with that?”

“Sorry. One of the things that Tony is working on is going through Howard’s notes. He left an enormous cache of recordings in the care of Edwin Jarvis, and we’ve only just uncovered it all. Video recordings of Howard talking about the project he was working on, his growing suspicions. His last recording before December 16, 1991. He believed in James.”

“That’s good to know. I don’t know if that’d make things easier or harder for Buck, knowing that. He believes he’s not worth saving. I know he’s hanging on just to make me happy. And I’m selfish enough to take it. I’ll take anything and everything I can have of him.”

Pepper just looked at him for a long moment, then lifted up on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “He’s lucky to have you, Steve. You hold on tight.”

“Never letting go,” he promised her, a bittersweet smile curving his lips. 

“Good. Now get back to him. We’ll meet for breakfast in the morning? Go over the details of the reparations fund. And then you and T’Challa and I can see what we can brainstorm regarding the Accords.”

“It’s good to have you here, Pepper.”

“I wish I didn’t have to be here, but we’re going to find a way to fix this, I promise you.”

Steve nodded to her, dipped down to kiss her cheek, and bid her goodnight.

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me!


	25. Repatriation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which my questions were ...
> 
> How does all this fit into the world of _Black Panther_?  
>  Why would the King of Wakanda help outsiders who've been complicit in Wakandan deaths?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This next chapter came from me puzzling the MCU's role in Wakanda. As the world geared up for the premiere of _Black Panther_ , I saw quite a lot of commentary about how Bucky and the rest of the MCU really had no place in the _Black Panther_ movie. And I realized that was true, and yet here I'd written a lot of words about how they literally took over the King's time with their own agenda. An entire nation serving up its resources for a bunch of outcasts.
> 
> So I puzzled some more, and I came up with an approach that I liked, that I thought made sense, and put the control back in the hands of the King, and his people. And so this chapter was born.

“Brother.”

“My King.”

“My son.”

“Are you _mad_?’

The four key women in T’Challa’s life all looked at him, each awaiting a reaction.  His younger sister, Shuri, lounged insolently against the curved and polished edge of his desk, while his General, Okoye, stood at attention impassively, but he knew her well enough to know there was impatience brewing beneath the façade.  His mother, Ramonda, the widowed Queen, held herself with the dignity and gravity of her station, silent, implacable, yet he could see the dance of mirth in her dark eyes, knowing and reassuring.  Nakia, the love of his life and both his greatest ally and fiercest challenger, merely glared at him, demanding answers.

As the silence lengthened, Okoye took control, as was her normal role in such confrontations.  “The blonde woman comes from Stark Industries.  Stark!  And you granted her airspace without consulting with me, Highness –“

“Because she is here at my invitation.  She has resources and information that will be helpful in untangling the web of the Accords,” he reminded her with a stern glance, then softened it with a grin.  “She is not here to steal technology, but to help.”

“But why is it you concern yourself with these outsiders so, Highness?  The Council is abuzz with questions, and yet you provide no answers,” Okoye pressed, frowning.

”I have the same questions,” Nakia added to the chorus.  “How can you justify not revealing our technology, our abilities to those who can best benefit right here in Africa, yet you reveal everything to these powered people from the affluent West, those who directly caused the deaths of our delegation in Lagos!”

“That’s not technically true,” Shuri corrected, jumping down from the desk to pace energetically.  “It was that one terrorist who triggered the bomb.  I’ve studied the recordings, and I confirm Wanda was trying to contain the blast, but it was greater than expected,” she explained, mimicking Wanda’s attempt to bend space with her mind and hands.  Then she jumped in place to face Nakia, grinning.  “She and her team were trying to save lives, not take them.  I have some ideas about fixing that in future actually –”

“That is my assessment as well,” T’Challa agreed.  “Ms. Maximoff is very powerful, but she is not a scientist.  She had no way of assessing the potential power of the explosion, and so could not compensate for it.  And I would be very interested in seeing you develop tools that could prevent such an occurrence in future, yes.”

“That does not answer the question, T’Challa,” Nakia pointed out.

T’Challa looked to his mother, his eyebrow raised in question.  She smiled slightly and inclined her head, and he took that for the permission it was.

“Sit, all of you.  Make yourselves comfortable.  We have much to discuss.”

&&&

“I cannot believe it.  Baba wanted to make the world a better place!” Shuri protested, looking toward her mother with wide, worried eyes.

“And so he believed the best in this man Secretary Ross,” Ramonda said gently, a lingering hint of pain and loss in her quiet voice.  “The woman from Stark, Ms. Potts, she says that her attorneys have reviewed the Accords your father championed, and confirm they are the blueprint to slavery of the enhanced.  Our own scholars agree.  In time, they would ensnare even your brother, Shuri, hold him in thrall to these Accords, to this committee that Ross would control.  The Accords are not the benevolent path to security and peace that the Secretary claimed them to be.  Nor is he without innocent blood on his hands”

“And the nations of the world are frightened, and they want someone to make it all better for them again,” Nakia said.  “Yes, I see.  But these outsiders?”

“Are our responsibility, given that it was Wakanda that proposed and championed the Accords which have made them fugitives,” T’Challa commented calmly.

“No one asked them to trash an international airport!” Shuri exclaimed.

“I may have had some complicity there,” T’Challa added, ducking his head slightly.

“You were always excitable,” Nakia commented slyly under an arched eyebrow.  T’Challa flicked his gaze toward her, frowning dangerously before he grinned wide.  Nakia pursed her lips, then smiled in return.

Okoye’s attention shuttled between them, and despite her dour expression, she radiated approval.  Then she drew a breath and announced, “My guards overheard the Captain and Ms. Potts speaking last night.  The Captain is paying for the airport.”

Shuri whistled through her teeth.  “Damn fine white boy’s a sugar daddy!”

“Shuri!” her mother admonished.

“He may be a foreigner, Mother, but he is definitely pretty!”

“An assessment Sergeant Barnes would likely agree, Sister.”

“They are pretty together.  I totally ship them.”

“I gather that is a common opinion.  Fortunately, it appears they would agree.”

“You might as well tell the whole story, my son.  And when you are done here, I think it is time the Council knew as well.”

“What, what is it?”

“The vibranium that is Captain America’s shield.”

“Stolen from Wakanda in the 1940s!” Okoya claimed vehemently.

“Not stolen.  Gifted.  By King T’Chasa.”

“Grandpapa?  Why?” Shuri prompted, leaning forward and alive with curiosity.

“Apparently we are not the first Wakandans to question our place in the world.  Our grandfather allowed a small amount of vibranium to be placed in the hands of Howard Stark.  To test what the world would do with it.”

“And he created Captain America’s shield,” Shuri breathed, her eyes wide and dancing.

“And he created Captain America’s shield.  He believed it was the last of the vibranium, and yet he used to it forge a shield, not a weapon.”

“Have you seen how he uses it?  It’s like a lethal Frisbee!”

“I have not only seen it, I have experienced it first hand.  Had my suit not been crafted of vibranium itself, he might have done some serious damage.  Yes, he can wield it as a weapon, but I have learned since getting to know him that Steve Rogers is prepared to use anything and everything as a weapon, if that’s what it takes to protect those in his care.  He will even use his own body as a weapon, if that is what is required.”

“He is epic.”

“He is insane.”

“He is taken, ladies.”

“So, if your grandfather wanted to test the outside world with this gift of vibranium, why was nothing further done?” Nakia asked suddenly

“Captain America downed the _Valkyrie_.  The test was over almost before it began.  Grandbaba did not feel comfortable releasing any more into the world at that point.  And so we remained a secret, apart from the world.  Until Klaue forced us further into the light.”

“He is a scourge, that one.  I look forward to the day he next sets foot in Wakanda.  It will not go well for him,” Okoye vowed.

“One day soon, we will have to step fully into the light,” Nakia pointed out reasonably, but with an undercurrent of passion in her voice.

“I agree.  And I believe that correcting the Accords, leading the world into a better understanding of the enhanced, a better balance, is the way in which Wakanda asserts its role in the world.  In the meantime, our family has a special connection to Captain Rogers, even if his shield rests half a world away.  He knows how to wield something powerful, something indestructible, and yet treat it and his foes with respect.  That is a useful point of view, a useful skill.”

“Right now, he is a wanted international fugitive,” Okoye said pointedly.

“Who has been granted both asylum and dual citizenship in Wakanda,” T’Challa replied with a chuck and an arched eyebrow.

“It paints a target on us, one that could prove problematic to any who might try to strike it,” Okoye told him, fire in her eyes.

“Careful, Okoye.  Your thirst for outlander blood is showing.”

“Only those who think they could do ill to Wakanda.”

“I do not believe you would fight alone if it were to come to that.  I believe the good Captain and his team would risk all to defend Wakanda.”

“We do not need them.”

“Perhaps.  But it might be nice to make them feel useful.”

Shuri was puzzling something out, and suddenly asked, “Is that why Baba was such a fan of Captain America?  Because he carried the shield made of vibranium?”

Queen Ramonda chuckled.  “It was.  It was like having his own personal superhero.  He was so excited when word leaked that Captain America had returned.  When those first photographs appeared of the man in the suit, fighting the aliens over New York … your father was like a child, jumping up and down and clapping his hands with glee.  It’s a shame he never got a chance to meet him.”

“And that is why you asked Captain Rogers to speak at the King’s memorial service.  Yet, he declined, why?”

“He did not feel it was his place to intrude upon our nation’s grief.”

“So he doesn’t know the truth of his shield, either.”

“No.  But now that you know, I will tell him.  I think it is something that may give him comfort, knowing that how he carried the shield gave the royal house of Wakanda confidence that one day, we could reveal ourselves to the world.”

“And yet Baba was so adamant about our isolationism.”

Ramonda bowed her head and closed her eyes for a moment before replying.  “He did not feel it was yet time.  But it is now T’Challa’s time.  The world is at our doorstep.  We must choose whether to turn away, or let it in.”

T’Challa nodded silently, his gaze slipping from one to the other until he held all their attention.  “We shall not turn away.  But we will control how we let it in.”

Okoye’s smiled tightly.  “So, there is a plan, my King.”

“There is a plan, my General.”

“And what about Sergeant Barnes, his programming?  I know that Wanda thinks she can fix him with her mind magic.  Our scientists have been studying him.  That Stark BARF-thing is a disaster.  Everyone’s diddling around.  When do I get _my_ chance at him?” Shuri demanded, practically vibrating with excitement.

“I think, perhaps, it is time that our visitors finally meet the true power of Wakanda, Sister.”

Shuri clapped her wrists together excitedly.  “Thank you, Brother!  Mother, my own pretty broken white boy to fix!”

&&&

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter deviates from _Black Panther_ enough that I feel I need to bring the story of Threads to a close soon - I will deviate from _Infinity War_ even more. Since the intent of the story was originally to make sense of what was on screen, I recognize that it's reaching the end of its usefulness.
> 
> After this, I think perhaps I will write two or three more chapters, and leave the ending open-ended. If I feel inspired - and I imagine there will be a lot of canon-divergent fic after we finally get to see _Infinity War_ \- I may do a sequel, but the immediate goal of Threads will have been met. It will be nice to have another WIP dusted off and finished, though!

**Author's Note:**

> As always, comments and kudos are welcome! And I've love to read your thoughts on the bread crumbs left in this and other movies and programs in the MCU/MTU. Feel free to debate away!
> 
> * * *
> 
> I've created a FAQ post on my Tumblr, to answer questions posed here, on IG, on Tumblr, etc. Check it out! And hey, feel free to follow me - I post lots of pictures of stuff, including bits and pieces from my Stucky Museum (my house). And cats. I am owned by cats.
> 
> Anyway, check out my [FAQ](http://debwalsh.tumblr.com/post/172159304647/debfaq-you-got-questions-i-got-answers) and bookmark it - I'll be updating it periodically with responses to questions about my fic, my art, my other fannish activities.


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